Edge of Tomorrow
by DayStorm
Summary: (ON HAITUS) The Original Hybrid would not be the first fictional character from a fictional world Amanda Warren would discover was actually terrifyingly real. But when Klaus is snared by the same trap that first captured her, the two are thrown into a whirlwind of parallel universes.
1. Prologue - The Black Box

_***It goes without saying that The Originals and every other film, book or franchise that will be mentioned in this fanfiction belong to their respectful owners. I claim no ownership or association to any of the many "universes" that will be visited in this fanfiction.***_

**A QUICK WORD FROM DAYSTORM:**_ Hello, everyone. This is my second _The Originals_ fanfic and because of that I felt it important to take a moment and explain that the similarities between both stories will be minor. I started writing _'Edge of Tomorrow'_ months ago when I hit a small snag in '_A Red Sun Rises'_, just to get my mind off the problem for a while._

_That said, '_Edge of Tomorrow' _will __**not**__ run parallel to '_A Red Sun Rises'_. This story will be written completely independently of what's happening in ARSR. The character Rachel, and Elijah's soul-bond to her, do not exist in this story._

_Also, where ARSR features Elijah as my chosen Original protagonist, this story will star Niklaus. I find that people in general have a very difficult time figuring out the Klaus-character and thus stick him in the extremes of his personality without ever finding that balance. So this here is my chance to show Klaus the way __**I**__ see him – an incredibly complex, layered character. Nothing is as black-and-white as we would like to believe, and for all his faults two things can be said about Klaus: He __**is**__ sane (end of season 2 notwithstanding), and he would move heaven and earth to protect those who matter to him._

_Cheers!_

_DayStorm_

**Prologue**

**THE BLACK CUBE**

* * *

If you're reading this . . . congratulations, you're alive.

If that's not something to smile about, then I don't know what is.

– **Chad Snugg**

* * *

My name is Amanda Warren and this is my story.

What I have to say is not something anybody will believe. That . . . that needed to be said. No one with even a lick of sense would take what I write here as truth, but that doesn't make me any less honest. I lived it. I was there. And as bad as things got, as bad as they could have been, I find that I can't bring myself to regret what happened to me.

There is so much I wish I could change. I was so scared and yeah, there were lots of things to be afraid of in this crazy, chaotic adventure I never asked for. So much of what came next happened only because I got swept up. But even thinking back on the worst of it, I don't think I would have changed anything. If I could have, I mean. If I were given a second chance. Because I wasn't alone. Through all of it, I had someone there with me. And really, that's what made the difference. I was not by myself.

The journey would have been intolerable without him. I don't think I would have even survived. Though to be fair, the journey was sometimes intolerable _**with**_ him, too.

Niklaus Mikaelson.

But it doesn't start there. No. My story begins more than a week prior to meeting him. The Original fictional character with which I would share a journey.

It began, for me at least, in a banquet hall.

It was late. Past midnight. I knew it would be dark outside, but there were no windows in the wide room. Why should there be with crystal chandeliers to bathe the entire elegant space in a pale golden light? Music hummed from the speakers, having replaced the live musicians hired for the event. I could see them from my table. Four twenty-something men and a younger woman carefully packing away instruments and extension cords.

Most of the guests had left at this point, though a few lingered at their tables or by the buffet picking at the leftovers. Finger sandwiches and candies and little cakes. I was the youngest person still there, though there had been others my own age around earlier. People I recognized from school. Some I recognized from the dozens of other fundraiser-parties I'd attended this past year. I behaved myself, smiling and making conversation with those others sharing our table and clapping politely during the speeches.

The _**endless**_ speeches, where I sat up straight in my chair and pretended to be paying attention while in my head I was already planning my dinner from what I'd seen the caterers setting up at the back of the room.

I did feel very much like a performing monkey in heels.

Admittedly, that's what I was. The only reason my parents brought me to these functions was to look pretty and make them proud. The perfect daughter.

Right. As soon as the fundraiser was officially ended – and I was sure I wouldn't get in trouble – I'd gone to the woman's washroom and changed out of my lovely blue-gray evening gown and too tall heels. I'd brought regular clothes with me, all neatly folded at the bottom of my school book bag and left it in the backseat of the car while I was busy making my parents look good at the party.

So now I was wearing comfortable ankle boots, which felt cool and soft against my feet after the rough straps of my heels. Skinny jeans. A soft cotton top and – just to annoy my parents – a green windbreaker jacket. Of course my mom and dad spotted me sneaking back into the banquet hall and both felt the need to give me separate but identical disproving frowns. They couldn't do more, though, as they were both busy. Speaking with a man in an expensive suit and shiny gold watch. He looked important. So I just smiled like I didn't know what I'd done wrong, and wandered back to our table to sit and wait.

I didn't know how much longer we were going to stay, and I was tired.

A votive candle floated in a crystal bowl full of water and translucent rocks. My hand hovered over the single flickering flame. Every white-cloth-covered table contained one of those centerpieces. I wondered how close my hand could get to the flame before getting burned.

"You look lovely. Didn't know they celebrated casual-Fridays at these things," a voice broke through my numbness. It wasn't so much the sarcasm in the tone that made me turn, but that the voice itself was achingly familiar. It was one I hadn't heard in ages, but I would know it anywhere.

"Ethan," I breathe in disbelief.

I turn my head, hardly daring to hope and there he was. Tall with a shock of dark hair and eyes so blue they were like a piece of the sky broke off and landed there. Coloring his irises. Dressed in a pair of faded black jeans and a v-neck sweater, he looked good. Better than the primped and polished socialites I'd spent the evening trying not to embarrass myself in front of.

Ethan Warren. My brother.

Two years older than me, Ethan had successfully escaped our parents' unwavering drive to make us conform. To mold us into what we were expected to be. Disgusted by their unabashed attempt at social climbing, Ethan had himself emancipated when he was my age – seventeen – and moved out of the house. From there, my brother was unofficially disowned. Our parents had wanted nothing more to do with him.

It had been more than a year since I'd seen him. My beloved big brother.

When I was little, he was my hero. Now that I was older, things were different. I just wished I had Ethan's courage. I never could have done what he did. Break free from our parents' snare and find my own way. I wanted it to be okay to be who I was instead of the girl I was expected to be. But seeing what they did to Ethan – completely shutting him out – had scared me into submission. So it was ballrooms and glittery dresses and canapés. My life.

Although since Ethan's emancipation I was also of the opinion that my brother was an idiot. Who emancipates themselves at seventeen? One more year and he would have been free, anyway. Recognized by law as an adult. But then, that was Ethan. Fearless. Impulsive.

He'd had enough. It was time to get out.

My arms went around Ethan's neck before I was even aware of coming off my chair. I threw myself into his arms, and he caught me. Strong and warm and familiar. His shirt smelled of smoke and the night, making my heart clench with longing. I wanted out of this quiet banquet hall with its artificial lights and warm air, only slightly stirred by the ventilation humming from discrete vents in the ceiling. The delicate clink of champagne glasses from the few still-occupied tables.

Oh, no.

I pulled out of my brother's arms, eyes widening. "Are you out of your mind?"

"Some might think so," Ethan said with a tilted smile. He nodded towards the podium, where our father stood talking with the event coordinator.

"They'll lose their minds if they see you crashed the party," I told him, as if that was something that even needed to be said.

Ethan's response to that was to tuck a trailing curl of hair behind my ears and say, "Party is over. Who cares?"

Who cares? _**They**_ did. I closed my eyes, inwardly cringing as I imagined the scene. Our parents were not above calling the police on their own son to report a trespasser. Especially since Ethan was no longer considered family. At home,_ World War III_ would erupt at the dinner table if my brother's name was mentioned even in passing. I learned very quickly to only ever remember him in the privacy of my own thoughts. _**Never**_ out loud.

"I wanted to see you," Ethan said, after a few seconds of tense silence. "How're you doing?"

"I . . ." I fumbled, my mind churning for an appropriate response.

Ethan nodded, once. He knew.

I swallowed hard and blurted, "I've missed you!"

I did. I really did. I missed him so, so badly this past year but the words nearly caught in my throat. As if I were confessing to something no one was supposed to know. I guess I sort of was.

A slow smile twisted Ethan's expression. I thought I saw regret, there, but Ethan just took my hand and tugged. Drawing me closer. I went willingly, standing toe-to-toe with my brother. Having to tilt my head to look up at him. Without needed to saw a word, he turned my attention to the mirror-panel set into the wall beside us. A large pane of reflective glass.

Ethan and I had always been close. It surprised me to see how much we'd both changed in that year apart. He'd filled out. Shoulders widening. Jaw squarer than I remembered, though he seemed leaner. Thinner than in my memory. There was a hardness in his gaze that wasn't there before. The look of someone who was used to taking care of himself.

I changed too. Maybe it was only because of the man standing next to me but I thought I looked softer. Medium-tall. Lean but not skinny. Pale, with only the slightest flush remaining from a daytrip to the beach weeks ago. I never could figure out why I didn't tan. I burned. I healed. I stayed pale.

But seeing the both of us, Ethan and I together like this, was a shock after so long apart. Nobody could tell just by looking at us that we were even related, never mind that we were siblings. It was like we didn't share any blood at all. Ethan was dark, azure eyes. I was light. A slender blond with eyes that were a smoky sort of blue that sometimes turned gray in the sunlight.

"Family matters," I said, quietly. To myself. To him. I don't know. The words slipped out without my permission and Ethan just smiled. Our parents might have thrown him away. But we still had each other.

"I can't stay for very long," Ethan said, ending our moment.

Of course he couldn't. I offered a hesitant smile and told him, "I'm fine. Really."

"No, you are not," he ground out, startling me and sounding far more frustrated than I think he intended. He waved a hand, encompassing the huge banquet hall around us and the white-cloth tables and the stupid champagne fountain I'd snuck a drink from earlier in the evening . . . solely because I wasn't allowed. "You're as strangled here as I was. God, Amanda. How can you breathe?"

Strangled.

Perfect word for it, but of course Ethan understood.

"One breath at a time, Ethan," I said softly. "I endure."

"You deserve better than that," he told me. "You shouldn't have to just sit pretty and _**endure**_."

Temper snapping, I lowered my voice and shot back, "What exactly do you expect me to do? Ethan. Just up and leave?"

_**Like you did.**_

I wasn't quite angry enough to say it, but it was implied. And Ethan heard me, loud and clear. The wall came down, shadowing his eyes and I was truly afraid that I might have pushed too far. Actually, I was sure I had. Ethan shifted his body away, putting distance between us.

"I might not have had the courage to stay, Amanda," he said coolly. "But at least I had the courage to _**leave**_."

Tears stung sharply, tightening in my throat. Shame. I shouldn't have implied . . . Ethan was braver. He always had been. Of the two of us, Ethan was the one who deserved better. He was right. He'd had the courage to leave, to break free. What was _**I**_ doing?

"I only came to give you this," Ethan added, taking my hand and crushing a folded piece of paper against my palm. He sounded so angry, so hurt, but his touch hadn't been rough. "It's my address. Phone number."

His phone number? I looked curiously up at him. Ethan's eyes were hard. "I never abandoned you, Amanda. If you need me, I'm here. Call. Come over. Do whatever you want. But know that I'm here."

Gratitude swelled inside. I could have cried. Thrown myself back into Ethan's arms and laughed and thanked him and welcomed my big brother back into my life. I wanted to beg him to take me away with him right then. But of course, I didn't do any of that. I smiled up at Ethan, hoping he could tell how much it meant to me that, even though he was angry and hurt by my carelessness, he still gave me this little slip of paper.

And, just like with my careless, unspoken accusation he heard me. He heard what I didn't say.

Like when we were little, he released his temper on a heavy sigh. We were good.

"I've got something else for you, if you want it," he said. "Found it in the parking lot, on the ground like someone put it there."

"Wonderful," I quipped. "So when whoever comes back for it . . ."

"I didn't steal it," Ethan was quick to insist. I smiled and he shook his head, pulling the thing he'd found from his coat pocket and holding it out for me to see. I expected Ethan to have found some little trinket. A nothing object, like an earring someone lost or a kid's toy.

I did not expect a cube.

It was very simple. Just a black cube, about the size of one of those square alarm clocks. But right away I saw what had drawn Ethan's attention. This, whatever it was, was not just a block left in a parking lot. It looked important. Valuable, even.

Intrigued, I took the cube from my brother without even asking if I could see. He let it go, and stuffed both hands in his pockets. Watching me with a small smirk, like he knew this would interest me.

The cube was heavy.

Much heavier than its size accounted for. I ran my hands over the six smooth sides, fascinated by the texture. It was like glass against my skin. Except that the cube was black-on-black. Jet. Onyx. Obsidian. I didn't know what to call it. It was the sort of dark I would imagine from a cosmic black hole. Light could not escape it. The color was unsettling, actually. I felt my eyes straining, trying to work out what they were seeing but it really was like I had a chunk of a void in my hands.

The sensation was so strong that it actually threw my perspective for a second. I had to look away to find my balance again.

"What is this?" I asked.

Ethan shrugged. "No clue. But look what happens if you press on the sides."

"Which sides?"

"Doesn't matter," he said. "Just put your hands on either side of the box and hold onto it for a sec."

I did, feeling a flicker of surprise at the immediate humming that moved from the box into my hands. I stared down at the depthless black surface of the box and there, right before my eyes, a burst of silver lights sprayed out from the exact centre. It was beautiful. Like stars. The humming quickened, vibrating to where I thought maybe I was being lightly electrocuted. My pulse skipped.

Then, as if rising to the surface from the bottom of a deep well white lines appeared. They rippled a little, as if they really were floating on water. It was eerie but so, so cool. I kept looking, unable to bring myself to look away. Every second that passed, the little white lines would change. Ticking to a new pattern. But as I watched, the lines twisted, changing shape altogether to become squiggles. I frowned, the idea that these lines might have been some sort of writing having just occurred to me. And the squiggles – which were completely different from the lines – were some _**other**_ form of writing. Another language?

The squiggled became pixels. The pixels trembled and, as I watched, they became numbers.

I blinked.

0-0-15

I glanced quickly up at Ethan. He was looking, too. Interested. Uneasy. "It didn't do that before."

"Do what?" I asked.

He said, "Count down."

Wait. What?

I turned my attention back to the glowing white numbers floating in a sea of silver stars and saw he was right.

0-0-12

0-0-11

0-0-10 . . .

"Ethan," I said, very quietly. "Say you didn't bring me a bomb."

"It's not a bomb," he said, just as quietly. Not wanting to be overheard. I noticed he didn't sound one-hundred-percent sure.

Not a bomb. The box was heavy. It hummed. Did bombs hum? I didn't know. I didn't think so but what do I know of explosives?

The numbers kept ticking.

0-0-4

0-0-3

By every right, I should have let go of the box. Put it on a table or on the floor. I might never know why I held on to it. My eyes fixed on those numbers. Heart hammering with trepidation as I watched what I thought was a bomb counting down to detonation.

To this day, I don't know why I did it.

0-0-2

0-0-1 . . .


	2. Chapter 1 - The Originals

_***It goes without saying that The Originals and every other film, book or franchise that will be mentioned in this fanfiction belong to their respectful owners. I claim no ownership or association to any of the many "universes" that will be visited in this fanfiction.***_

**Chapter 1**

**THE ORIGINALS**

* * *

"You know, it's funny how often a person's sharp tongue can end up cutting their own throat."

– **Klaus Mikaelson**

The Originals; S02E05

* * *

I knew where I was.

For the first time in more than a week, I recognized where I might have been. It wasn't possible for me to be in this place, but denying the validity of anything was starting to seem kind of stupid. Trapped in a surreal, waking-dream all by myself . . . I was only just starting to understand what was happening to me. But now, at least, there were things I recognized and there was a measure of comfort in that.

I was in New Orleans. Louisiana.

The Crescent City.

I recognized it on sight, though I'd never been here before. It wasn't the soupy-spice smell of hot Jambalaya wafting from doorways or the deliberate, lovely architecture of the buildings along the narrow streets. It wasn't the primarily French street signs; so at odds because the majority of the people around me were speaking American-accented English. None of that is what convinced me that I was smack in the middle of the French Quarter.

It was just that I recognized the holiday.

Mardis Gras.

Crowds that heaved and surged like a surf. Glistening, shiny bead necklaces. Booze. Wild dancing in the streets with the chorus of drunken shouting and cheers and hollers. They sky overhead was orange rather than night-black despite how late it must have been. Lights from the city caught and held by the thick cover of clouds. I wondered if it would rain. I didn't think anybody would care if it did. A shower would stir the celebration into an outright frenzy.

I hugged my soft leather satchel close, trusting the strap slanted across my chest to keep me from losing it but still feeling the need to press the bag against my hip. I could feel the weight of the Black Box inside. Reassuring, too, despite the fact that I hated the thing. What a nightmare. But I would have rather give up an arm than drop that Box.

The party should have annoyed me. It was loud and boisterous and it grated my already frayed nerves. But I wasn't annoyed. I was thankful. The party helped me to disappear. If anyone had been sober enough to notice one girl by herself flitting nervously through the crowd, they would have realized on sight that I was lost.

I had no beads. No drink. No friends.

Dressed in mud-splattered skinny jeans and black ankle boots. A shirt no one could see because my green windbreaker was zipped up all the way to my collar. I left the hood back, so that the breeze could tease through my hair a little and it felt good. Cool, after the sweltering heat of where I just came from. Now and again, I would cough harshly as my body tried to clear residual smoke from my lungs. Stopping by a storefront, I caught sight of my reflection in the window glass.

I looked exhausted. More than that, I looked haunted.

Like a girl who had reached the limit. Like I couldn't take any more . . . and it confused me because I really didn't _**feel**_ that bad. I was just tired. I wasn't done.

Standing in front of that window . . . peering at my own reflection I could also see the reflections of those behind me. Just last week, I would not have appreciated being able to do that as much as I did now. I lingered there for a little while longer, just catching my breath when something caught my attention. Out of everything moving around in the glass, I think maybe it was the stillness of this one particular figure that drew my eye.

Mardis Gras was in full swing. I was surrounded by the drunk and disorderly. Giant floats rumbling clumsily along in a train of topless woman dancing and sparkly beads falling from the air as if from nowhere. _**Nobody**_ was standing still.

I kept my gaze fixed on that one motionless form. The tall, lean body of a man standing by a lamppost. Arms crossed while he appeared to be casually observing the crowd. I frowned, not at all sure what I was supposed to be seeing but a tremor of foreboding rolled up the length of my spine. My scalp prickled. Why did he seem so familiar?

Nine days on this crazy trip. I knew better than to be curious.

I still turned around.

And for a second, I lost him. Between the backwards visual of his reflection and the act of turning around, I wasn't sure where to look. The crowd heaved again, surging all around me. Bodies spilling out onto the street and screams and wild cheering. Closing my eyes, letting them rest a moment I took a deep breath and then took another look. Lights flew all around. Glow sticks and bracelets and sparklers. Flares flying off the floats. Confusing. Chaotic. My empty stomach churned while my head tilted with a faint dizziness reminding me that I hadn't eaten in too long.

And then I saw him. All at once, he was right there.

Across the street, leaning casually against a lamppost. Arms crossed over his chest. Booted feet crossed at the ankles. The morass of lights flaring and sparkling all around him catching in his hair, making it look reddish but I could tell even from where I was that the color would have been a mousy brown. Or else a dusty blonde. Memory superimposed over what my eyes were seeing. Confusing me for just a second. I froze.

I _**recognized**_ him.

A lot happened in the past nine days. From the moment my brother handed me that stupid Black Box and I just stood there, numbly watching it counting down in my hands . . . I'd seen a lot. Nine days isn't a very long time but it's enough. Enough time to change your way of thinking. To accept a new reality. For me at least, the denial phase was over. But this was . . . I didn't know what to make of this. I stared, quite literally unable to move through my confusion. My mind reeling, snatching for an explanation while I stared across the street at a man just passing the time watching the parade.

Or, no.

Not the parade, I realized.

He was _**waiting**_. Blue eyes passing over the crowd like a man searching for something, knowing he had all the time in the world to find it. He was in no particular hurry and that slouch is why I first thought he was just casually hanging out.

I had to get out of here.

Oh, god. Oh, god. What had I done? I had to leave. Get away. Heart hammering, no clue where I was going to go, I stuffed my hand inside my satchel to feel the smooth sides of the Black Box and then stepped off the sidewalk. A mistake.

That single quick jerk – my panic – snared the attention of the Original Hybrid.

Klaus Mikaelson. A fictional character that was, for whatever reason, very real in this place and had just fixed me with predatory focus. I paused again, looking right across at him and our eyes met. Real interest flashed in his expression and he came off the lamppost with a fluid, powerful stride. He was crossing the street, coming to meet me.

Oh, my god!

Keeping my hand in my satchel, gripping the Black Box with all the strength I could force into suddenly stiff fingers, I took off. Not running, exactly, but going _**fast**_. I slipped through the heaving, screaming crowd. Jostled by bodies. Head full of the scent of sweat and perfume and beer until I thought I was going to be sick. Panic swelled in my chest, choking me. Hurting my heart. I could feel my pulse beating in my skull. Surrounded by people and no one – no one – could help me.

Where was he? Klaus. Where was he?

I shot a frantic look over my shoulder, and a burst of fiery white erupted right in front of my eyes. Screaming, startled and confused and terrified, I threw up my arms to shield my face and tripped. Feet skidding on the pavement, the heel of one shoe catching on the slight rise separating the sidewalk from the street. I fell over, tumbling backwards to slam against the concrete with a hard _whack!_ that knocked every ounce of breath from my body.

Stunned nearly senseless, I didn't get up right away. _A sparkler,_ I realized in disgust. I was taken down by a spitting, fiery sparkler . . .

Still on the ground, I quickly checked to make sure I had my satchel and the precious Black Box inside. I did. Relief filled me at the feel of that smooth, heavy cube. I climbed clumsily to my feet and caught my breath, eyes scanning the crowds for the vampire-werewolf fictional character chasing me. But no. The press of bodies was too thick. I couldn't tell if I was still being followed.

Well, of course I was. From what I knew of Klaus – things I'd learned from watching him on television, of all things – he would not have just given up. He was here. Somewhere. He was coming for me and I knew, knew I couldn't get away. Despair welled up, threatening to swallow me whole. I kept walking. Moving slowly now, through the throng of partiers on the street. The roar from a passing float nearly drowned out my own thoughts, and that would have been good except that I nearly missed my brain giving the rest of me a little nudge. A reminder that no, I wasn't trapped.

Of course!

Scrabbling to pull my bag around to the front, I drove both hands inside and stopped. Standing motionless on the sidewalk, I pulled the Black Box from inside and pressed my palms against the slick obsidian sides. Stars exploded from the centre, flying out in a spray of glittering sliver lights. Then, rising up as if floating to the surface of a lake, numbers.

0-19-22

I closed my eyes, trembling with disappointment and fear but also a flicker of hope. Nineteen minutes. I had nineteen minutes left in this place . . . if I could just hold on for a little while longer. I needed to evade Klaus for that long, until those ticking white numbers counted down to zero and I would be safe. Gone to where even the most driven of the Originals could not follow me.

I would be safe _**soon**_. But for now, I was still here. In this world. With a vampire-werewolf hybrid coming after me.

I didn't know what to do. It was so stupid and dangerous. Klaus and . . . and The Originals was only just a show on television. It wasn't supposed to be real, but here it was. And the little bit I knew about them made it so that I didn't truly believe that I somehow escaped pursuit. Klaus wouldn't give up chasing me. I shouldn't have panicked. I shouldn't have run. He wouldn't have noticed me at all – why would he – right up until I'd stared at him in horror. Of course _**that**_ snared his attention. And now . . .

. . . nineteen minutes.

I could do it.

No. I really couldn't.

Granit fingers closed over my upper arm. A tremendous strength swinging me around with a startling speed. My hair flying with the motion. Without thinking, I slammed my hands against a hard chest. Pressing back, away from the solid body of the man who'd snared me. Fingers tightened painfully and I gasped, eyes shooting up to meet the hot blue gaze of my captor.

"Who," he said slowly "are you?"

* * *

I wasn't sure, but I thought I had six or so minutes left on the Black Box.

Six minutes and then, if I didn't have it in my possession the cube would be spirited away leaving me behind. Trapped in this alternate universe. Forever. I needed to get my hands on the Box. How I was going to accomplish this was a mystery. My satchel was twenty feet away, discarded on the huge antique writing desk across from me. I could try to dart forward and grab it but that would make me too stupid to breathe. Any one of the four other people in the room could cut me off in the time it took me to stand up.

Klaus who was the one who caught me in the street. Elijah. The vampire I fervently hoped lived up to his televised reputation of being the sensible one. Rebekah. The sister. Tall, blonde and stunningly beautiful. More beautiful in person that she'd ever looked on TV. And Marcel. Swagger and charm. He exuded a strange sort of menace. A lethality that never really came across when watching him on the show.

They were all in the next room. Talking. Or arguing. Talking about me, anyway. That I didn't doubt. What could possibly be more interesting than the girl none of them knew, but who had clearly recognized one of them on sight?

I'd been placed in a high-backed wooden chair with a cushion seat but none on the backing. Elegantly carved with what I think might have been birds' wings and ivy, the chair was beautiful. But it was the sort of lovely that you only really noticed when you had a few seconds to look at it. I'd had little else to do since Klaus dragged me back to the immense compound he and his family were calling a home. Sit quietly, try not to draw attention to myself and look helplessly around. How was I going to get out of this?

I'd never felt so helpless. So clueless.

I honestly didn't think there was anything I could do to save myself. Not this time. I was completely at the mercy of . . . _**them**_.

And it was the most frightening of those four that sauntered into the sitting, followed by his siblings and Marcel to begin what I assumed would be a bout of bloody and painful questioning. My pulse, which had gradually returned to normal after being forcibly brought here, gave a single solid thump and then started to race. Klaus had a dangerous, mocking grin cutting like a slash across his face. His expressive mouth turning with evil amusement and a promise.

_Don't lie to them,_ I thought in desperation. _Don't lie._

Don't lie, sure. But it's not like I could just confess the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. What was I even supposed to say? I was here, having been yanked straight out of my world into theirs. An alternate universe. And I was just trying to get home. I mean none of them any harm, and if they'd only be so kind as to let me go . . . in a few minutes, I'd be gone from their lives.

A few minutes. I winced. Without the Box, I couldn't check to see how long I had left. I had to get my hands on it. There were so many things I had to do.

I was shaking.

Klaus leaned against the huge mahogany desk and crossed his legs at the ankles. Hands braced back on the surface. The look in his eyes was pure arrogance. Menace. Oh, god.

I glanced quickly left and right, meeting first Elijah's pitch dark gaze and then Rebekah's softer but still fierce blue eyes. Marcel took up position directly behind me, and even though I couldn't see him I could feel his stare burning a hole in the back of my head.

They could all hear my heart hammering. The sheer panic beating in my chest. Beating. Beating. My heart giving me away and I had no way to hide it. _Vampires_, I reminded myself. Back home, in my own world, that would have been stupid. Absolutely crazy. At no point would the idea of vampires even come into my head. But I wasn't in my own world and the rules had changed. So long as I was in this place, I was living by its rules and vampires and . . . _and hybrids_, I thought with a fearful glance at Klaus, were perfectly real.

And I was alone. Completely and wholly alone because I was an intruder. Dropped into a place I did not belong. The words: _Stranger in a Strange Land_ echoed eerily in my own mind. Not in my voice, though, but as if someone was saying it to me. Reminding me of something that had become painfully obvious. Or else just mocking me.

_Shut up_, I thought furiously.

I had no way to slow the panicked skipping of my pulse, or deafen the vampires to the sound of it. So I didn't try. Instead, in a burst of inspiration I decided to play it up. To milk my own fear with the hope that it would keep them from seeing me as any sort of threat. No one as scared of them as I was had any sort of power. Maybe, just maybe, if I played this right I would survive the night.

I turned to look at Klaus again, at the mocking arrogance and an almost palpable energy. Like a young wolf. Even standing still, he gave the impression of restlessness. Of pacing. Like there was just too much energy crackling beneath his skin to ever look quiet and calm. I closed my eyes, doing nothing at all to hide my automatic wince. Yes, let them see it.

I was just a girl. A human girl who made a terrible mistake.

"We'll start easy, and work our way up from there. Yes?" My terror was so acute that at first, I didn't notice it wasn't even Klaus who'd spoken. It was the sister. Rebekah. My gaze slid with some difficulty from Klaus to the stunningly beautiful blonde girl standing at his left. Her long hair glinted golden and honey rich in the soft lamplight. She said, "Who are you?"

"I –" I took a breath. Swallowed hard and tried again. "I'm Amanda."

"Lovely. And who is _Amanda_?" Rebekah pressed. Yeah. Right. Um, first name wouldn't tell them anything.

Was I shaking? I think maybe I was but my whole body had gone so numb that I really couldn't feel it. My heart gave another sharp thump.

"No one," I managed, which caused Klaus to smirk with amused skepticism. From the corner of my eye, I saw Elijah. His gazed was fixed unwaveringly. On me. Dark, dark eyes. Like onyx. Like ebony. Intelligent. Very different from Klaus' more predatory cunning. Just like that, my measure of the group changed. Elijah was the dangerous one. I would have to be careful, there.

I kept my own eyes on Rebekah. Right now, it felt like she was my safest bet. She didn't come across as particularly aggressive. I clung to her like a lifeline, perfectly willing to talk.

"Why did you run?" she demanded.

I said, "Because I was being chased."

A flicker of amusement danced across her expression, lightening the tension in the room by a fraction of a degree. I hadn't meant it as a joke – I certainly didn't intend to come across as a smartass – but I couldn't take it back, now. So I sat. Hands clasped in my lap and sort of angled my body so that I teetered on the edge of my big antique chair. I was sort of hoping it didn't look like I was getting ready to jump up and make a run for it.

I mean, I was.

But I didn't want it to be obvious.

It wasn't even fear that kept me sitting down. It was very simply that I knew they were faster than me. Vampires. And Klaus. If I ran, or even made a grab for my satchel and the magic Black Box inside . . . I didn't have a snowball's chance in Hell. They'd stop me.

The thought actually brought tears to my eyes. Pure helpless frustration.

What was I supposed to do?

Naturally, everyone noticed. The tears didn't soften them, but interestingly enough it made them switch tactics. Less interrogation, more a simple prompting.

Rebekah tried again, "You saw something in the street that frightened you and you ran."

I knew she expected me to add to that. To explain myself and in some corner of my mind, I understood that this was my chance to maybe get out of this without even a scratch. I didn't even have to lie, really. Just tell them. I was startled and overreacted.

But I screwed up. Instead of answering the question, I glanced quickly over Rebekah's shoulder to look at the face of the large clock against the far wall. It was just past one in the morning. How much time did I have left on the Black Box? I wasn't sure. Minutes? Seconds?

That simple distraction, the moment where I showed more interest in the hour than the very real threat surrounding me . . . a mistake. Oh, my god. I realized my error the moment it was done. Eyes snapped from the clock back to Rebekah's sharp, baby blue eyes. Then, tongue going bone dry in my mouth, I lifted my gaze to Niklaus. Elijah now stood directly next to his brother. I hadn't even seen him move.

"In my bag," I said breathlessly. Licked my lips. "In my bag, there's a box. Or a-a-a cube. Black on black, you can't miss it."

Eyes narrowed suspiciously, menacingly, Klaus grabbed my satchel by the strap and pulled it forward. Flipped the flap open, nearly tearing off the small charm of differently colored crystals that could easily be mistaken for glass beads sewn into the soft sheepskin leather. The bag itself didn't have very much inside. My few – very few – possessions. Just things I'd picked up or been given. The satchel itself was a gift. I didn't have it with me that first night, at the banquet hall when my brother handed me the Box.

Rather than pull the Black Box out, as I'd expected him to do, Klaus frowned and started riffling through my things. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from saying something regrettable . . . and stayed very still. Waiting. Trying not to draw attention or, worse, antagonize anyone.

Klaus pulled an object from my satchel and held it up for me to see. It wasn't the Box, but a chunky piece of something securely wrapped in dry leaf-paper. I blinked, uncertain of what he wanted me to say and looked between the bundle and Klaus.

"What?" I asked.

He said, "What is this?"

"Oh. Um, white cheese with . . . . um," actually, I wasn't sure. Walnuts? "some sort of nut."

My stomach clenched, churning sharply. A reminder that I was starving. When was the last time I'd eaten? Not important.

Priorities. I needed to focus.

Time. I winced. How much _**time**_ did I have left? The Box was counting down and it wouldn't care if it left me behind. The second that timer hit 0-0-0 it was gone. And I couldn't let myself get trapped here. In a world, a universe that wasn't mine. I wanted to go home . . .

"Look, guys," I said, my voice trembling with urgency. I wiggled in my seat, nearly coming up out of the chair. Only the fact that I was thoroughly intimidated kept me where I was. "I don't mean any harm. I don't mean anything. Just . . . please. _**Please**_, just give me my bag."

Well, that got everyone's attention. Expressions varied from interest, to suspicion, to clear calculation. I swallowed hard, gathering whatever courage I had into a tight little ball and said, "I'll be gone soon. I'll go away, I swear, and you'll never see me again. I need my bag. Please. Please. Just let me go."

Elijah turned fully, facing me and I looked up at him. Imploring. I couldn't tell if he believed me, but the look in his eyes . . . I was being measured. And I knew. I _**knew**_ he was making his decision.

Rebekah shifted around. Klaus, either taunting me or just curious, pulled the Black Box out of my satchel. He held it, fingers clasped tightly around the smooth colorless sides.

Time seemed to stand still.

For one hellish second, everything stopped and I stared at the hated cube. Black as void. Like a chunk that broke off a black hole and landed in our hands. The cube was real and solid. It was right there. But looking at it was really like peering into absolute nothingness.

Right before Klaus caught me I'd checked the countdown on the Box and seen that I had a little less than twenty minutes remaining. But I had no idea how much time had passed since then. I could feel time ticking. Like sand, passing through my fingers. I was losing it. Every second wasted was like taking one step closer to my own execution.

Panic swelled inside of me. Panic and haste and it made me careless.

I knew. Very suddenly, I just knew. There were only seconds left . . .

I leapt to my feet and darted forward. Must have startled the others, or else I'd really succeeded in downplaying my threat-status because no one moved to stop me. Not even Klaus. He was holding my bag in his fist. The Black Box in his other hand, held up to the light. I nearly collided with the Original Hybrid, my ankle boots skidding on the wood floors.

I. Did. Not. Care.

I grabbed the Box, both hands pressing flat against its sides. Immediately, silver stars erupted from its core and, to my immense relief, the countdown. My eyes took a moment to fix and make sense of the numbers and several things happened, then.

0-0-3

Elijah moved; a dark figure in my peripheral vision.

0-0-2

Rebekah shouted, alarmed. Marcel's deeper timber adding depth to words I didn't even hear.

0-0-1

Klaus grabbed my arm, fingers digging painfully into my bicep.

0-0-0 . . .

Cold, charged air like static in a blizzard swept through my body. I hurtled forward, drawn by the cube into the wake of some immense implosion. Like a star collapsing into itself. And there, at the very last second before I blinked out of this universe I felt something new.

A body. A presence.

Someone . . . someone was pulled in with me.

No. Oh, my god no. Klaus.

Klaus was still holding the box.


	3. Chapter 2 - Unnatural Alliances

_***It goes without saying that The Originals and every other film, book or franchise that will be mentioned in this fanfiction belong to their respectful owners. I claim no ownership or association to any of the many "universes" that will be visited in this fanfiction.***_

**Chapter 2**

**UNNATURAL ALLIANCE**

* * *

"All change begins with a plan, the success of which depends upon several things.

Depth of commitment, passion for one's cause, willingness to embrace a new path,

determination to overcome any obstacle, and in some cases even making unnatural alliances"

– **Klaus Mikaelson**

The Originals; S02E03

* * *

We landed together.

Klaus and I.

I knew he was pulled with me when the Box reached zero; its power swelling then collapsing with us inside it. Snatching us up and hurtling us from the sitting room of the Original family to a whole other universe. Yes, a whole new universe. Not a far place, as distance was measured. Kilometers. Miles. Light years. Even the furthest, faintest stars at the very edge of the galaxy were still part of a single universe. The distance to get there was immense. Mindboggling. But we could see those stars and were it possible to do so, we could set out and journey to them. We didn't have the technology to do it, but if we did? We could. They were there. On the same plane of existence as the rest of us.

What the Box did was something altogether different.

The first time it happened, when I felt that chilling cold and the terrifying sensation of condensing. Of my entire body collapsing in on itself as the power imploded dragging me with it . . . I thought I was going to die. Standing in that softly lit banquet hall, next to my brother. My last though had been to wonder if the bomb in my hands exploded. And as strange as it sounds, I was almost indignant that it didn't. Explosions burst _**outwards**_. Why was I being pulled inward? Yes. What I thought was going to be my last moments alive, and I trolled physics.

How dare the bomb get the science wrong?

That was nine days ago. Clearly, I didn't die.

Or maybe I did, and this was some weird purgatory. But I didn't think so. I was going with the assumption that I didn't blow up that evening and I really was getting myself yanked into alternate universes. Places that were as real as my own world. And the last place I'd landed . . . was the universe where the entire The Originals story really happened.

I had to accept that.

I'd had to deal with it.

And now, out of all of them, the one I most wanted to leave behind and never have anything to do with again . . . was right there. Oh, no. No. It was a mistake. An accident. I hadn't meant to take him with me. But he hadn't let go of the Box! As the cube counted down those last few seconds, I'd made a grab for it – _**knowing**_ what was about to happen – but Klaus held on. He didn't let go so that when the implosion came he got dragged in along with me.

That was never supposed to happen!

I was used to the frightening, dizzying sensation of being pulled and dragged along in some cosmic wake. Klaus wasn't. So where he held still a moment, not moving for the time it took to get his balance back _**I**_ hit the ground running.

I dropped to my knees, picking the Black Box up off the ground. Fingers closing over the slick sides. Then sprang up and took off. I got about eight feet before skidding to a halt. Confused. Staring at the smooth, granite wall directly in front of me. I spun on my heels, looking around for the exit – a door or opening or something – and saw nothing.

I was in a room without an exit. A cage.

An almost gentle stirring of the air. Tremendous speed. I saw the blur of motion only a beat after it was done. Klaus had me by the throat. Iron fingers hooking beneath my jaw. Driving painfully into the hollows behind my ears. I was lifted up, up, up! Weightless in his grasp.

_**WHAM!**_

My back slammed against something hard and unforgiving. Pain shot sharply down my spine. Air left my lungs and I gasped, but there didn't seem to be enough. Rubber bands tightening around my lungs. I couldn't inflate them. Couldn't breathe!

Panicked, I kicked out with my feet. Doing nothing. I could scarcely move.

Klaus had me pinned to the ceiling.

The weight from my own body placed a tremendous strain on my bones. My spine. Tendons and muscle holding everything together. I locked both my hands around Klaus' wrist; not trying to break his hold but actually lift myself up a little. Relieve some of that strain. Fire coursed through me, sizzling over the network of nerves beneath my skin.

His eyes. Klaus Mikaelson. The Original Hybrid.

Through the gray clouding my vision, I saw his eyes. Brilliant, furious gold. Shining eerily. But they were beautiful. So beautiful . . .

"Stop," I managed, air wheezing. My voice choked. "I-I'll explain. S-stop."

I pleaded with him, expecting nothing. Certainly not mercy. I thought he would snap my neck. Crush my windpipe. Throw me against a wall, the force of impact breaking every bone in my body. A million frantic scenarios flickered in my oxygen-deprived mind. If we were being honest, I didn't really have any idea what he would do. I wanted to live. Whether or not I did was up to him . . .

He let me go.

Klaus lowered me, so that I didn't just fall from the ceiling, and then released me in a heap on the ground in front of his.

I gasped, choking on the air filling my body. Breathing. Hating the fire in my lungs but pulling in great heaving hisses of air like it was years since my last breath, not seconds.

Trembling, muscles twitching in my shoulders and arms, I glanced cautiously up at Klaus. He wasn't even looking at me, taking the time I needed to breathe to look around at this strange place we'd suddenly found ourselves. I knew the exact second it registered that there was no door. No exit.

He shot me a glance, those golden eyes softened back to their natural blue. "Where did you bring me?"

_Okay. Calm, Amanda. You could do this._

I held up my hands and slowly, slowly came off the ground. I stood up. My whole body weak and feeling like I'd been drawn and quartered. My arms and legs didn't quite feel like they were properly attached anymore. Klaus narrowed his eyes, indicating that I had best answer him.

"You won't believe me," I said, very carefully.

Klaus turned fully to face me. I couldn't read his expression but the threat was still palpable.

I drew one last deep breath and said, "It was . . . an accident. I swear. You're not supposed to be here but now that you are, I . . ."

"Where are we?" he asked.

Um, well. There _**was**_ an answer to that.

"I don't know," I said, then quickly scrambled back as Klaus took a menacing step forward. "I don't! Really. I don't know where we are exactly. But I can tell you where we are in general. This is an alternate universe."

I expected him to lose it with those words.

Either believe me and flip his lid.

Or assume I was lying and go all _Terminator_ on me.

Klaus did neither. He stood, shifting his weight from one side to the other and glanced quietly around at this place. "Rather small for a universe."

My brain stalled. So thrown by that muttered remark that everything inside my head stopped moving. I blinked, bewildered, and then smiled a little. Did the great and terrible Klaus just crack a joke?

He was right, I realized. My terror lessening by a degree, I dared to turn my gaze from the dangerous hybrid right in front of me to give the place more than just a cursory glance.

It was a room. I knew that already. A rectangular room. Longer than it was wide. Four glossy smooth granite walls the color of slate. A floor and ceiling made from the same stone, but rougher. Like it hadn't been polished to the same mirror-finish as the walls.

No cracks or even a light source, as far as I could tell. Only, there was. I could see.

It wasn't very bright; more like it would be if the room were lit by a single small lamp sitting in the centre of the floor. But the light seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere simultaneously. It was like the air itself was giving off the slightest little glow. Just enough for my eyes not to have to strain to see clearly.

And the room – this long rectangular room – was empty. There was nothing in here. Just me, and a pissed vampire-werewolf hybrid.

"I really have no idea where this is," I said softly. "But it's definitely the quietest place I've landed."

I suppose I might have lucked out on that, if nothing else.

Klaus said nothing.

I glanced quickly down, blinking in surprise at the sight of my satchel. Pale, soft lambskin leather. The satchel was a very simple design. A large sac, with a flap that went up and over like on a messenger bag. A long, flexible strap which could be hooked over a shoulder or, better, slanted across my chest so that I carried it with me but never needed to really hold onto it.

I ducked down and picked up my bag, opening it to check the contents. Felt a bolt of hot disbelief when I noticed the Box wasn't inside, but only for the second it took me to realize the Box was in my hand. I still had the leaf-paper wrapped cheese with nuts. A loaf of heavy flatbread and the little jewel-bead charm that was given to me by the same wisewoman who gifted me with the satchel, and insisted I take a ration of food because she understood that I would need it.

I took the jewel charm out from the bottom of the bag and held it in my hand, rubbing it between my fingers.

"For luck," the wisewoman had said, as I knelt on the thick furs carpeting the floor of her hot tent. The Black Box, silver numbers counting down those final few seconds in her universe. She'd placed that little bundle of beads tied together in my hand, carefully folding my fingers over the charm. Her own hands, bony with inflamed knuckles and joints looking like knots in wood had been warm and dry. She hadn't been sweating, like I was. Even with the white sun beating mercilessly down on her tent, and the smoky heat from her fire inside, turning the interior into a sauna – or a furnace – she'd felt comfortable.

This old hag like an evil witch from some Grimm fable had come to mean a lot to me in the space of just two days. That's all the time I was allowed in her world before I was spirited away. Dragged helplessly along by the power of the Black Box. I really did hate the thing. But the wisewoman had assured me that there was a chance, a small one, that the cube might one day return me to my own universe. That I might one day be allowed to go home.

I glanced quickly up at Klaus, my fingers stopping their restless stroking of the charm.

He was tall. Lean, but not skinny. His body was toned. Fit. Strong. Like before, I was forcibly reminded of a young wolf. There was a great deal of power, there, and I think I would have sensed it even if I hadn't known what he was. And I was afraid of him.

I didn't want to tell him the truth. Didn't want to share that he just might be caught in this trap with me forever. That it might take a century, two or even more before the Box circled around bringing him home again. The wisewoman had given me the hope that it could, but she was fair and she'd been honest. She warned me that the odds were . . . well, at least I had hope.

I took a deep breath for strength and said, "Klaus?"

He tilted his head, listening but didn't look at me.

"There's something you need to know."

* * *

I told him.

Not everything. I think there might have been too much to say for me to remember to say it all, but I told him the parts that mattered. We sat together on the floor of this empty stone room, me with my legs crossed. Him with his back against the wall, one knee hiked up with his arm resting on it. Staring at me through my entire monologue, unsettling to where I occasionally tripped over my own tongue and would stutter but I kept going. His eyes stayed blue through the whole thing. His expression neutral.

And that neutrality scared me more than anything.

If he'd been angry, snarling, at least I would know where we stood. But he didn't make a sound. Didn't look away. Never took his fixed gaze from mine.

After I was done, there was silence.

I had never quite understood the expression of a _'deafening quiet'_ before. I thought I did, but I was wrong. _**This**_ quiet was deafening. The silence weighed with so much that wasn't being said I felt it pressing down on my shoulders. A low ringing buzz started in my ears as I waited for Klaus' response.

I thought maybe his eyes narrowed.

A tremor rolled through me. I let my hair fall forward a little, cowardly hiding my face and took my satchel from my lap. Tugged it open and tore off a chunk of the heavy flatbread that was the last of three I'd been given. Hands still in the bag, on my lap, I peeked through my hair. Then offered the bread to Klaus. He looked at it, gaze dropping from my face to linger on the offering. I was sure he would sneer and refuse. But it was all I had.

Klaus slanted a small smirk and took the bread from my hand, amusement shining in his eyes.

"Peace offering?" he taunted. "Or are you feeding me in the hope I won't eat _**you**_?"

"Both?" I said.

Klaus didn't take a bite from the flatbread, but I was ravenous and if he wasn't going to up and kill me in the next few minutes . . . I ripped another piece off the flatbread in my bag, then closed the flap and sat back. Nibbled on the end of my own ration for a second, looking across at the hybrid just looking calmly around the empty rectangular room and swallowed hard.

"Ask me something," I said.

"Ask you what?" he responded.

I shook my head. "I don't care. Just, ask. What do you want to know?"

Klaus' attention swung around.

"Lonely, little one?" he taunted. "How long have you been at this?"

I chewed my bread for a second, then said, "Not long enough to be lonely."

"You're scared," he sneered.

"Well, yeah." I let him bait me. Wonderful. "I'm alone. Completely by myself being flung from one universe to another. Never knowing what's waiting for me on the other side. I'm scared, Klaus. Scared enough not to mind admitting it."

I ended it with an unspoken _'so there'_ which I'm sure he heard.

I got a tight smile for my effort. Klaus didn't seem particularly interested in what I felt, but at least he didn't bite back with something that would tear me down. I pushed the rest of my bread-piece in my mouth and chewed in silence.

"To how many of these_ 'worlds'_ have you been?" he asked.

"Five," I said. "Five worlds, after I left my own."

"Tell me," he offered.

I glanced quickly up, surprised and suspicious. I know I asked him to ask me things, and that I would tell him what I could but I didn't really believe that he would. Klaus had been right, with the _'lonely'_ accusation. I was. My suggestion that we play at Q&amp;A was mostly just me wanting somebody to talk to. And you _**know**_ someone is lonely when a homicidal blood-sucker looks like good conversation.

Klaus lifted a brow, pure challenge in that one gesture. He didn't think I would.

He'd baited me again but suddenly, I didn't care. I wanted to talk to him, and I started this.

"I got pulled in a lot like you did," I said to him. "You know, by mistake? I didn't know what would happen when I saw those numbers ticking down. I just . . . god. I wish I'd never touched this stupid thing."

Anger swelled, hot but only for a second. Whatever anger there was – at myself, or at Ethan for giving me the box, or even at my parents in a roundabout way for being stuck-up, proud jerks who abandoned my brother which would eventually lead Ethan to crashing the banquet that night – all of that paled next to the other emotion. It wasn't even fear. My fears came and went.

It was regret.

I regretted my decision to hold onto the box. I regretted that my brother brought it to me, as a fascination. As a gift. I regretted my loneliness. My situation. I regretted that Klaus was here with me now . . . because I understood what it meant. Not for me, but for him.

He couldn't go home. He'd lost his family as surely as I lost mine.

"The first world was the worst," I began, speaking quietly. My voice tight. "Partly because of the place I landed. Mostly because of the weather. The combination was staggering. I thought . . . I thought I died and went to hell."

I looked quickly up, meeting Klaus' interested gaze and felt my gut clench. The little bit of food souring in my stomach.

"I don't know if I believe in anything like a heaven or hell but, for a little while there, I really thought I was dead and went down." I shook my head. "My first . . . jump; the first new world I landed in was pretty bad. No fire, or anything. Nothing like that. But there was this _**storm**_. Storm is such a stupid name for it. There wasn't even any rain. But the sky was bruised, you know. Purple and black clouds and I could feel how immense they were. They were heavy, pressing down from the sky. With these furious whips of lightning cracking again and again. Everywhere and I was so scared I would be hit. And the thunder! Oh, my god Klaus. The noise. I could feel the thunder coming up out of the ground. I thought I was going to go insane. I couldn't take the noise."

I was shaking. With memory. From reaction.

I'd thought it was going to last forever. I mean, now I knew I hadn't died. But at the time I didn't know that and I thought this was it. Punishment. Eternal damnation and I didn't know why. I was no saint, I knew that. I liked to needle my parents and I would brat my brother when he still lived with us but I never imagined I was _**that**_ bad . . . to deserve this . . .

"And then?" Klaus prompted, very gently.

I opened my eyes, surprised to find I'd shut them tightly. My arms were wrapped around my knees, drawn up to my chin. I hadn't noticed I did that. Curled into myself like that. Clearing my throat, embarrassed but still shaking, I slowly uncurled. Sliding my feet against the stone ground to let my knees down and returned to my former position. Sitting cross-legged on the floor. Swiped my knuckles over my cheeks to remove the little bit of tears that'd escaped.

"I wasn't there long," I went on with only the slightest tremor showing in my voice. "About twenty-minutes. But I didn't understand what was going on, at this point. So when I shifted again, landing in a whole new place the difference between worlds came as a shock. The second world was quite a bit calmer. Just an island. There wasn't very much to see. I think it might have been a lava-thing. Or, what's it called? Like, volcanic? Like Hawaii?"

Klaus nodded and I said, "At least I wasn't dropped straight into the ocean. The island wasn't very big, just a jumble of black lava rock. I was there for about a day, staring out at the water. Endless water. For all I know, I was sitting on the only piece of land in that world. I was warned that not all universes would be familiar . . ."

"Warned by who?" Klaus demanded, of course latching onto that one point.

There was no reason to lie about it. "My third world. The first place with signs of life. I was there for three or so days. I fell in with a band of nomads who seemed fascinated by this pale-skinned girl who dressed funny." I smiled, remembering their surprise. "I was nervous. These people were armed but they were way more accepting of me than I think I could have expected back home. Where everyone is suspicious of everyone else. One of their elders . . . took me in, I guess."

I pulled the Black Box from my satchel and carefully placed it on the granite floor between us. Klaus leaned forward. Knowing he was watching, I pressed my hands on either side of the cube and saw the silver glitter of stars shoot out from the centre of that colorless box. Black. Onyx. Obsidian. None of the over. It was void. Black hole. And there, amongst the twinkling, winking stars, numbers. Counting down. Always, no matter what, those numbers ticked.

0-3-47

"The first set is hours," I told him. "Then minutes and seconds. It's a clock, see? When the seconds hit zero, the cube implodes dragging itself and anything in contact with it through the barrier between universes."

"You realize how this sounds," Klaus said to me. His blue eyes glinted, shining with only the slightest sheen of golden light.

I nodded. "Yes, I know. But it is, what it is."

He sat back, lounging against the wall making his coat creak.

"The elder explained it to me like this," I told him, needing to share this. "There are no _**parallel**_ universes. All going in the same direction, never crossing? No. She says to picture it like bubbles of air in a pool of water. Like froth. I just picture it like a ball-pit at the carnival. These universes all contained in their own little bubble, but they're moving. Always, always in motion. They never collide, she said. Or else, they _**do**_ but they don't crash. They'll bump into each other and then bounce away, to keep floating around."

Klaus actually snorted. Okay, so my explanation was a little . . . stupid. A ball pit? But I knew what I was saying. When the wisewoman explained it to me – this great cosmic thing – I actually understood. I got what she was saying to me.

"That's what the Box responds to," I told him. "I don't know how it does it, but it feels the approach of new universe bubbles and counts down to the bump of the nearest one, like the thing thinks its NASA or something. It counts down and then, when it hits zero is when the new universe brushes past this one. And the Box shoots out a snare or whatever, latching onto the new universe pulling itself along. Out of one into another. And whoever happens to be holding onto the Box when this occurs gets dragged in with it."

"Which is what happened to you," Klaus said, simply.

"Yeah," I said with a sigh.

"You expect me to believe any of that?" he said silkily. I glanced quickly up, alerted by his tone but he didn't lung for me as I expected. Instead, he watched me. A very dangerous smile playing across his expression. "Alternate universes and all this is just one large misunderstanding. You are only an innocent, powerless to stop what you mistakenly began."

Oh, no. I closed my eyes. Tired. Not sure where Klaus was going to take this, but understanding his disbelief. His suspicion. Suspicious of _**me**_. Of course, but I knew enough about the Originals to know that none of them appreciated being played. He thought I'd done this on _**purpose**_? I could have laughed, and even felt the chuckles building pressure in my chest and had to swallow it down.

Hysterical laughter. This wasn't funny but stress and exhaustion and confusion combined made for a powder keg of emotion. That same stressful buildup that made some people giggle at funerals.

If I laughed right now, I was going to die.

Klaus would kill me.

So I didn't laugh. I didn't burst into tears, either. I did what I was good at, which was to push it all down and bury it someplace deep inside. Years and years of being my parents' trophy-daughter had conditioned me to being particularly good at hiding what I really felt.

And to do it, I got snarky. With a heavy emphasis on sarcasm, I said, "Realistically, Niklaus. This is too stupid _**not**_ to be true. If I was going to lie to you, I could come up with a better story. You know? Something you might actually believe!"

He smirked. Pleased, I thought, but my attitude.

"How do I know you're not a witch?" he demanded, that infuriating smirk firmly in place. "A spellcaster who has turned my mind, trapping me in an illusion of your making."

"You don't," I said.

His brows shot up at that one and his smirk widened into a full-blown smile. Amused. Impressed, maybe. But what was I supposed to say? The harder I pressed him, insisting that I was telling the truth, the less he would believe me.

"I guess that means you have a decision to make, eh?" I said.

Klaus flashed his eyes, just once, shining hot gold. A warning, I suppose. Reminding me of what he was. Like I needed the reminder. I knew. I understood. He could kill me with a flick of his wrist and never think of me again.

I also knew that he wouldn't. Maybe later, but not right now. And the moment we were in was the one that mattered.

So I grabbed my satchel and swirled the strap over my head. Returning the bag to its usual position, where it would hang at my hip with the strap slanted securely across my chest. Taking the Black Box up off the floor, I stood and slapped my hand against my jeans to remove dust. I did not notice Klaus move but he was standing, too. Having leapt up the moment I did.

"Time's almost up," I told him. Tilted the Box forward to show him the clock "0-0-13". "I find it's better to be standing up when this happens. We don't know where we're going to land and . . . um, we might have to run."

I held out my hand, offering it to the Original Hybrid and smiled.

To my surprise, he actually took it. Strong, rough fingers closing over mine. Just in time as cold static crackled invisibly all around us. The Box, hooking a passing universe. We imploded, falling inside and forward out of this strange granite room and I knew – even if Klaus didn't – that wherever we were going was not going to be quite as calm as this . . .


	4. Chapter 3 - It Begins

_***It goes without saying that The Originals and every other film, book or franchise that will be mentioned in this fanfiction belong to their respectful owners. I claim no ownership or association to any of the many "universes" that will be visited in this fanfiction.***_

**Chapter 3**

**IT BEGINS**

* * *

"Does this look like a teamwork oriented group of individuals to you?"

– **Cuchillo**, Drug Cartel Enforcer

_Predators_ (2010)

* * *

Green.

Leaves and the heavy, steamy heat of the tropics with beams of sunlight filtering greenly down from the canopy. The air perfumed with the scents of leaf-rot and wood and growing things. I started sweating almost right away, my body responding to the humidity. Shocked by the sudden change in not just temperature but also from the weight of the atmosphere. My lungs seized and I choked at the unexpected difference in the thickness of the air filling them.

But the jungle was only the _**second**_ most interesting thing about this place.

The first had to be the long barrel of a gun stuck six inches from the end of my nose.

I held still. So bewildered at the sight of this gun in my face that I wasn't even scared. I just blinked. Trying to make sense of what I was seeing. And Klaus? He came through the jump with me just fine. I could feel his presence without even having to look. Not making a sound, he didn't seem to be doing anything. My pulse skipped as the gravity of the situation finally punched through my confusion.

Slowly, I lifted my gaze from the deceptively unassuming muzzle of the gun to look at the man on the other end of it. He was tall, with a head of dark hair cropped short. Vaguely handsome, I thought numbly. But it was the military gray fatigues he wore and the heavy bulletproof vest overtop that held my interest. Extra rounds of ammunition, like shotgun shells, pushed through slots in his vest. A slim, heavy knife neatly sheathed. And of course, the weapon in his hands. Painted brown and green and gray – camouflage colors – was all I needed to know. Soldier. Not army, necessarily, but definitely some sort of soldier. A professional killer.

If Klaus intended to rescue me from being shot, he gave no indication. I wanted to glance over and see what the hell he was doing but I didn't dare take my eyes off the man. My heart was hammering. A tightness in my chest made it so I was scarcely breathing but my attention was fixed. I wouldn't have looked away from a snarling tiger, either.

The man's eyes were hard. Cool. But I thought I saw the slightest flicker of confusion pass through them. Dark eyes slid over to Klaus, then returned to me. I got a nice once-over; his eyes passing over my body in a way that would have been creepy if it wasn't short the sharpness with which he did it. He was looking at my clothes, I realized. Jeans. A cotton top. Boots but ones made for sidewalks, not traipsing through the deep jungle. I was a girl woefully out of place. So, where did I come from?

Slowly, very slowly, he lowered the weapon.

I dared to breathe again. My heart was hammering, thumping like crazy in my chest. I was shaking. From reaction, I guess. I was okay. But I might have been more scared that I first thought. Or else the swell of relief at still being alive was making me dizzy.

A second man appeared, bursting out of the trees behind the first. Shorter. Rough dark hair pulled back and tied in a tail at the nap of his neck. Weathered face like old shoe-leather. Dressed in a blue shirt and stiff jeans.

Then a third man! I blinked. How many of them were there

The third guy looked absolutely bewildered and was making no effort to hide it. He was much bigger than the other two. Broader, with a fine layer of fat under the skin of his face and hands. Dressed in green fatigues, there was no mistaking that _**he**_ was military. And the massive machine gun he carried looked like it weighed more than I did.

Klaus moved, then. He shifted and that broke whatever paralysis had taken over me. I offered a watery smile and said, "Hi, guys."

"You fall out of the sky, too?" the third man asked, his voice staggering beneath the weight of a heavy Russian accent.

I swallowed, trying to moisten my dry throat. Between Klaus' fingers clamped like a vice around my throat when he pinned me to the ceiling, to the shock of flying between universes and now having to standing in front of three heavily armed me . . . I was thirsty. My throat was sore. And my voice had sounded strained.

"Not . . . exactly," I said, and immediately thought it would have been better if I just agreed. Yes. Yes, we fell out of the sky too.

I slid my gaze to the side. Practically begging Klaus to do something. Say something, at least! But he didn't. He just stood there, this infuriating little smirk on his face. Blue eyes moving back and forth. Taking in the scene but without any threat directed towards himself, he didn't seem interested in helping me. Figures.

My hand itched to slip into my satchel and check the Black Box's countdown – see how long we were going to be here – but I wouldn't make the same mistake I did in The Originals world. Where I looked at the clock rather than answer Rebekah's questions. I wouldn't bring attention to where my mind was at. I was going to be smart. I needed to be, because I couldn't count on Klaus. He was here but I didn't know where he stood on our predicament. And that made me feel very alone.

"I'm Nikolai," the Russian man said, tapping his chest with two fingers. I offered a small smile, to show I appreciated the gesture. He was trying to diffuse the tension of the moment but with Klaus still ominously silent I hurried to accept the effort.

"I'm Amanda," I responded. Nikolai did seem like the friendliest of the bunch. Or the least menacing, anyway. He was the only one who didn't strike me as killer-for-hire.

When Klaus continued to say nothing, I winced and edged away from him . . . just in case.

But nobody seemed to care about the very real threat Klaus exuded in waves. The first man, the one who very kindly didn't shoot me when I appeared from nowhere right next to him, turned to the Russian. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"War," Nikolai said, brow furrowed. He looked at me, at my silent companion and then hefted his huge gun to a more comfortable position. Continued, "Chechnya. There was a light. Then, ah, then I woke up. And I was –"

"– falling," the up-'til-now silent second man finished, his voice rough and deep. "Same thing happened to me. I was in Baja. Then there was a light . . ."

Klaus and I exchanged a glance. He smiled and stuffed both hands in the pockets of his dark jeans. Looked around, scanning the surrounding wall of trees with only mild interest. I knew he was listening, too. His sensitive hybrid hearing an asset. My own ears were useless. There was no wind. No sweep of a breeze through the canopies. No birdsong. No monkeys shrieking or anything else I would have expected in a jungle. Weren't jungles supposed to be loud and full of noise? This place was quiet as a grave.

"Where are we?" Nikolai wondered, unknowingly echoing my thoughts. He lifted his eyes to the sky, or what little of it we could see. I looked up, too, and saw only slivers of blue peeking through the net of leaves and intertwining branches like a ceiling far overhead.

We needed to get out of here. Nerves prickled over my skin. A definite unease. I didn't want to talk to Klaus when he was being weird, but I slid closer to him anyway and stopped short of tugging on his sleeve. Whispered, "Why's it so quiet?"

He just shrugged.

My temper snapped, and I took a breath. Calming myself before saying, "Are you alright?"

No answer. Quiet from Klaus was a very dangerous thing. I didn't know him nearly well enough to make assumptions, but the truth was that even though I only just met him an hour ago I _**did**_ know him. Or as well as anyone could, from watching him every week on television. And that third-party familiarity was just enough to have alarm bells going off in my head.

I turned back to the others, afraid for them. Afraid for me. I was the only one who knew what Klaus was. No bullet or grenade or knife would stop him if he went off on the group. Professional killers, all of them. Lethal. Military. Well-armed and trained. _**Sheep.**_

Klaus was a wolf, surrounded by sheep.

Nikolai repeated himself, sounding as if he were trying to prod an answer from his own mind rather than actually talking to anyone. "Where are we?"

"Maybe _**she**_ knows," Mr. Hard-Dark-Mercenary said, nodding his head to indicate some point behind us. Klaus didn't move, beyond closing his eyes and smiling. But I spun around along with everyone else. Knowing I couldn't count on Klaus for . . . anything . . . I was feeling very alone right then. Confused, sure, and afraid like always when I landed in a new place. But I was more alone now, with him, than I'd been before when it was only me.

_Be smart,_ I reminded myself, not feeling particularly clever at all.

I scanned the jungle for what Mr. Mercenary had spotted and at first, I saw nothing.

But then, like a shadow pulling free of the surrounding darkness, a woman appeared. Dark, dark hair. Dark eyes. Pale skin. She was dressed in black and gray and deepest green army fatigues. A wicked-looking black sniper rifle clasped in her steady hands. The scope was up, non-reflective glass on the lens. She stood unnaturally still, becoming a part of the environment around her. Taking us in, one by one. She turned her head by a degree, to look at us with her eyes rather than through the narrow view of her sniper-scope.

"You wanna lower the weapon?" the Mercenary called to her.

The woman didn't say a word. Didn't lower her rifle, either. I could only imagine what she was thinking.

"I've never seen this jungle before," she called back, her eyes sharp with suspicion. "And I've seen most."

The way she said it, there was only the barest hint of accusation. Like she thought we might have been responsible for her being here but . . . didn't _**really**_ think so. She was demanding an explanation, though. Open to any answer we were willing to offer.

Nikolai was the first to respond. The guy was a natural peacekeeper. "Alright. Y-you think this is Asia? Maybe Africa . . .?"

But the woman was already shaking her head. "Too hot for this time of year. And the topography's all wrong. Amazon, maybe."

I crossed my arms over my belly and my jacket made a noise when I moved. Everyone looked at me, and I wished I could just sink into my coat and vanish. I hadn't meant to draw attention. Something fluttered through the branches above us, birds, but we couldn't see them. The canopy was too high. Too cluttered.

We needed to leave, I decided. Klaus and I. Restlessness made it difficult to stay still, as I was taken by this need to get moving. I didn't feel safe. Not at all. I wasn't interested in staying with the group but sneaking away seemed stupid. Would they let us go, if I just bade them farewell and left? Could it be that easy? I wasn't a prisoner. No one was guarding me. Even Mr. Dark-Hard-Mercenary didn't look particularly interested in stopping us if we wanted to go.

Yes. _**We**_.

Klaus and I together. I had no idea what was going on with him, but I felt the strangest sense of responsibility. He was as much a stranger in this universe as I was. He didn't belong here any more than I did. Whatever was going on in his head, we were in this together. The two of us bound by circumstance.

Speak of the devil. The hybrid was looking right at me. Our eyes met and Klaus' narrowed.

Crap.

I opened my mouth, ready to voice my desire for us to abandon the group and go our own way when military-sniper-woman said, "I saw more parachutes."

I turned but she was speaking to the Mercenary.

His response was a curt, dangerous, "Which way?"

"Why?" the woman demanded, suspicious.

Mercenary brushed past Klaus, dark eyes narrowed menacingly. Gun held ready, but securely pointed away from anyone. An assault rifle? Was that what it was? I really didn't know. Bracing his booted foot on a rotted log, he leaned forward and very politely explained, "So I can figure out who threw me out a f*cking airplane."

Clearly not amused, the woman jerked her chin to show the direction and I suddenly understood the strangeness of Nikolai's earlier question. _You fall out of the sky, too?_ Of course. Parachutes. Airplanes. Now I understood.

Giving a sarcastic salute as thanks, Mercenary headed off. His stride strong and sure on the uneven terrain.

I still wanted to leave. Was still feeling the instinctive pricking at the back of my mind warning of danger and that staying in one place was unwise. But seeing Nikolai hefting his immense machine gun to follow after Mercenary and the rough, blue shirted Mexican shrug and go off after them I wasn't so sure. Stay with them? It was only the standstill I didn't like. Now they were on the move . . . I could follow . . .

The sniper-woman rolled her eyes, swearing with a sort of _'what the hell'_ finality and started after the other three.

I spun on Klaus, my fear and frustration getting the better of me. "What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing a little blood wouldn't fix," he said, with the most challenging smirk I had ever seen.

I bristled, scared but too angry to really feel it. "You're hungry _**now**_?"

"No," he said.

So blood for sport, then. Just for the fun of tearing out a throat? I really couldn't tell if Klaus was screwing with me or not. Trying to scare me. Or he might have been seriously considering which one of us to drink dry. I placed my hand on my satchel, finding some comfort in the feel of the soft leather against my skin. The familiarity of the weight of the Black Box inside.

"Twenty minutes ago, we were in a room without a door," Klaus said, as if I needed reminding. His smirk twisted into something dangerous. Blue eyes glinted with bolts of brilliant gold. "Now we're in the middle of the bloody tropics."

It was a statement. There was no question, there. But I was acutely aware of what he was saying to me. A double-meaning that almost made me throw up my arms in disbelief.

"You think _**I**_ did this?" I demanded. "Are you seriously bent on the whole _I'm-a-witch-fooling-with-you-and-conjuring-worlds_ theory you were throwing around earlier? What for?"

He countered with "Why not?"

"You have nothing I want," I shot back. Bristling. Furious. Frustrated.

Klaus chuckled and brushed my hair back from my face. I jerked away from him, glaring and his grin widened, losing the hard-edge. He seemed genuinely entertained by my little show of backbone. All at once, I understood the purpose of his deliberate silence before.

He was only posturing! Like a peacock fanning his feathers. He'd kept quiet to gauge how easily he could intimidate the others – and me. A new fury reared its ugly head. I could have been shot! Would he have stopped it, or just let my brains splatter everywhere to show everyone how badass he was?

"Do you have the cube?" Klaus asked.

I continued to glare for a second, then nodded. Once.

"Are you sure?" he pressed.

"The thing is the size of a square tissue box," I told him. "And it weighs as much as a red _**brick**_! You think I'd drop it and not notice?"

Klaus' attention fixed on my hand, resting on my satchel and he nodded. Satisfied.

He looking out in the direction the others had gone. A wind gusted strongly – the first one felt since we landed – causing the trees to creak and moan. A loud, eerie sound that shivered the skin and made me look all around. Nervous. Paranoid that there might have been something out there.

Swallowing hard, feeling smothered in the steamy heat of this quiet jungle, I pulled the aforementioned Box from my bag and checked the countdown.

"We're here for just under six hours," I told him, though he hadn't asked. He didn't even seem to be paying attention but I knew he was. It was in the nearly imperceptible tilt of his head. The way his shoulders tensed. Klaus was far more interested than he wanted me to know.

"And then?" he said.

"Then we're off," I said. "To some new world."

Klaus turned around, eyes flashing.

"It's not my decision," I told him, quietly. "But when this hits zero, if you're not holding the Box or in contact with the one who is, you're staying here. Forever."

Forever. My heart ached in sympathy but there was nothing that could be done.

Klaus was with me. Tied to this mysterious Black Box as surely as I was. Even thought I was trying to explain, trying to get him to understand exactly what it meant I didn't think Klaus really understood what he was in for. Not yet. And I was too intimidated to tell him the straight, stark reality of the situation.

Kicking my boot against the same rotted log Mercenary leaned on before, knocking caked mud off the heel, I slipped the Box back in my bag and started walking.

Klaus actually hissed.

"I could kill you," he said coolly, falling into step. "I could kill you and take the cube for myself."

"You could," I agreed, equally cool. Trying not to let him see how seriously I took those words. "You could kill me and steal the Box. Or you could steal the Box but let me live. I can't stop you from just taking it, and we both know it so no point in pretending. _**Or**_ you could let me live, and not strand me in this world. Wait and then leave together when the countdown hits zero."

"Certainly a possibility, if a little dull," he allowed. Hesitated. My pulse skipped but he didn't do anything. Just seemed to be thinking. "Do you have any idea where you're going?"

"Right now? I'm going with _**them**_," I said, nodding towards where the soldiers had gone off. None of them had waited for us, while Klaus and I had our little argument.

It was a good a plan as any.

We were here for six hours.

Might as well stay with the guys with guns who hadn't shot us.

I waited for Klaus to make his decision, but he wasn't one to blurt out the obvious. I found his answer in his mere presence. For now, at least, he decided to stick with me.


	5. Chapter 4 - Up a Tree without a Clue

_***It goes without saying that The Originals and every other film, book or franchise that will be mentioned in this fanfiction belong to their respectful owners. I claim no ownership or association to any of the many "universes" that will be visited in this fanfiction.***_

**Chapter 4**

**UP A TREE WITHOUT A CLUE**

* * *

"I will finish what _**you**_ started."

– **Mombasa**

_Predators_ (2010)

* * *

_W-WHAM! Crunch!_

Knuckles struck bone with an audible crack, fist crushing cartilage and blood spurted from his nose. A skinny man in an orange jumpsuit. A prison inmate, by his clothes. He had a patch of wild brown hair spiked sticky with blood and spit. He grunted and panted, breathing heavily in the steamy air. Gasping for enough oxygen to fuel his exertions, and those exertions were draining if the heavy, clumsy way he moved was any indication. He was tiring quickly, but the bigger black man who just slammed a fist into Jumpsuit's pasty face was faring a little better.

The black man didn't even seem to be breathing hard, though he was slicked with sweat. He reared back, holding Jumpsuit with one hand while winding up for another bone-shattering punch. Jumpsuit took it with a surprising amount of resilience. I would have been KOed, but he scarcely seemed to notice the pain as he drove his hand up and under the other man's chin. Forcing his face up, tilting his head back further than it was supposed to go. Jumpsuit bucked, unbalancing them both. They rolled and Jumpsuit ended up on top.

He struck with the ferocity of a cornered rat. Fist slamming again and again into the black man's kidneys.

Neither of them noticed our company.

Even though the group hadn't waited for Klaus and I when they headed off to search for the other parachutes, they weren't exactly running away from us so we had caught up to them fairly quickly. Shortly after that, we stumbled onto this delightful scene. Two men rolling around on the ground, bent on beating each other senseless. Now, there was nothing funny about the situation but the sheer ridiculousness of what was going on made me snicker with suppressed giggles.

The others all wore stony expressions. And Klaus, who had fallen back on his menacing silence once we rejoined the group, looked only mildly irritated. But I – the civilian – was amused. I was also exhausted so . . . I really should not have thought this was funny. It wasn't.

The sound of my snickering caught the attention of the two guys on the ground, and Jumpsuit glanced up. The heavy branch he held like a club poised to crush the other man's skull didn't drop. He hesitated, squinty brown eyes flickering back and forth. Surprised at being surrounded, but still riding the high of battle.

"You with _**him**_?" Jumpsuit demanded breathlessly.

"No," sniper-woman said curtly.

Distracted, Jumpsuit was kneed in the stomach and flung aside. I guess the other man wasn't interested in having his head cracked open. Jumpsuit stumbled upright with a venomous glare directed at all of us. "Then why don't you mind your own f*cking business, then?"

"We have bigger problems," she said.

Orange Jumpsuit panted, blood dripping from his bottom lip and smeared over his cheek from where it had leaked from his nose. Those squinty eyes did another quick pass over our assembled group.

Dark, hard-eyed mercenary with his assault rifle held loosely but expertly. The Russian soldier. The Mexican drug cartel enforcer, with his twin machine guns. The woman, American military with a sleek but deadly sniper rifle. And Klaus. Dark leather and denim, deceptively unarmed but with an air of restless menace so powerful you could taste it on the air.

He looked at all of us, taking us in and made a decision.

"Okay boss," he said. Panting to catch his breath in the steamy heat. "Whatever you say."

The black man snatched Jumpsuit by the collar and dragged him close, going nose-to-nose with him. Despite the mud and leaves sticking to both of them from being on the ground, there was very little blood on him. He really _**had**_ fared better in the scuffle. Poor Jumpsuit – Mr. Prison Inmate – was a brawler. The other knew what he was doing.

"I will finish what you started," the man hissed with a heavy South African accent. His voice was pleasantly deep. Like thunder rolling over the hills.

Jumpsuit threw up his arms, shoving away and was released. The two men stood apart, bristling for a moment. Both tense and prepared to continue where they left off.

"Gentleman," Klaus said, drawing the word out with false good-humor. He startled everyone who'd been aware of his absolute silence before this. I sighed but Klaus paid no attention. He smiled at Jumpsuit and the African man with a cheery amusement. "Perhaps we can continue this delightful exchange another time, eh? We wouldn't want to upset the women."

The sniper-woman shot Klaus a dirty look but didn't entertain him by responding.

Thinking he actually meant _**me**_, I said, "Uh, I'm not scared."

"I didn't say you were, love," he responded.

Orange Jumpsuit looked a little confused by this exchange. Can't say I blamed him. Klaus was looking right into my eyes, and I stared back. Belatedly remembering that's how compulsion worked but he didn't do anything. A shadow of a taunting smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, like he dared me to argue with him. I didn't and Klaus swung his attention around. Away from me. Without thinking about it, I stepped forward. Edging closer to Klaus. Cautious but he didn't seem to care that I did. So I stood near him, quietly reassured by his presence even though I knew I shouldn't be.

Jumpsuit cast another quick look at our heavily-armed group. He nodded, "Safety in numbers, huh?"

Sniper-woman shrugged. "Something like that."

"Yeah?" he jerked his thumb back, over his shoulder in a careless gesture. "Okay, well, you think maybe we should get that guy hanging in the tree?"

* * *

"Help me! F-fack! Help meeeeeee!"

And that was the shrill, terrified cry we'd been listening to for . . . not very long. The jungle and thick-packed foliage acted like a natural soundproofing, absorbing noises. We hadn't heard the screaming until we were nearly right next to the source of it. And just as Jumpsuit had said, the poor man was all tangled up in his parachute. Suspended upside down from the branches of a tree just over a pool of murky black water.

"How many of them are there?" I asked quietly, speaking to Klaus. He and I lingered a little way back from the others who were now moving around the edge of the pool.

"We're being followed," he said.

Of course we were. I heaved a tired sigh and wished I could sit down.

"Hello?" the guy called down, twisting around in his parachute straps and tangling himself worse. "I'm trapped in a parachute in a tree!"

Jumpsuit shouted up at him, "Hey, why don't you shut the f*uck up!"

Nice.

"Oh, thank god!" the man moaned, letting his arms hang down over his head. I stared a moment, looking at his face flushed bright red. Wondered how long he'd been up there. Upside down.

Then, to Klaus, said, "I'm not liking this. Not one bit."

Klaus was also staring up at the poor guy suspended maybe fifty feet off the ground. I went on, "We've got seven people all armed to the teeth. All dangerous, in their own way but no two are the same. Do you see it? It's like they were all just dropped here."

Klaus graced me with one fixed, hard blue glance and I flushed a little. Blushing and bowing my head, letting my hair fall forward to hide my face. But when he continued to say nothing I chanced a quick look back. He was watching me, his former amusement at the sight of a man up a tree fading to something more serious.

"There's a point to all this," I told him. "I think we landed in the middle of something."

"Or else the beginning of something," he said, very quietly.

Sniper-woman's voice cut through the stillness, drawing our attention back to what was going on with the guy stuck up in the air. "Stop moving you're breaking the branch!"

Mercenary was moving carefully around the pool of stagnant water, bringing himself closer to the trunk of the immense tree that'd snared the guy. The guy who was _**still**_ upside down. Seriously. If his face got any redder, his head would explode.

"D'you have anything to cut yourself down with?" Mercenary asked.

The guy sputtered, "Why would I – _**no**_! I don't!"

"Maybe we can fashion a rope or something," I offered, speaking up for really the first time. Klaus wasn't the only one who'd chosen silence. Everyone looked at me, and silently I wished I'd just kept my mouth shut but it was too late to duck behind Klaus and hide. No matter how much I really wanted to. So I tried to explain, only stumbling a little, "W-we could get some of the straps from your parachutes and –"

"Do something!" the man yelled.

_BANG-whoomph!_

Mercenary's gun went off. The sudden, explosive noise was like a detonation. It sounded like a cannon! A crack that had my ears ringing and my heart thudding madly inside my chest. My eyes went wide and I looked up, hearing the crackle and snap of wood breaking and saw the guy and the branch he was snared on come crashing down in a flurry of leaves and splintered wood . . .

SPLASH!

. . . right into the pool of murky water below.

Mercenary looked over at the rest of us, the heavy barrel of his rifle smoking and shrugged at the looks he was getting. "My way is faster."

_It's fine,_ I thought. Gasping. Startled-scared. I had been wound so tightly before this that the tremendous boom of sound when Mercenary fired on the tree branch had . . . scared the crap out of me! I was shaking. Actually trembling from fright. My fingers were digging painfully into Klaus' dark coat. Nails leaving little crescent-shaped groves in the leather. I blinked, coming back to myself and only then realizing that in my fear I'd grabbed onto Klaus' arm and was holding on with all my strength. Blanching, I quickly released him and jumped back.

I shouldn't have done that. Was he mad?

He didn't appear angry. Instead, Klaus was looking down at his coat sleeve. He then glanced up at me and lifted an eyebrow. I swear I heard him thinking, _What was that?_

"Sorry," I said.

Whatever. Klaus turned away. No harm.

No one noticed our little side-drama.

The man in the water was screaming "Help! Help!" while splashing around, waving his arms. Interestingly enough, no one from this group jumped in to save him. They all just stood and watched him floundering around until, after a few seconds of this, the man paused. Blinked. And stood up. He was in three-feet of water. He wasn't drowning.

"Who the hell are you?" Jumpsuit asked crouched on one knee at the edge of the pool. He didn't sound like he particularly cared. I kicked the heel of my boot on the ground, hot with embarrassment. I couldn't believe I lost my mind at a loud noise. I couldn't believe I clutched at Klaus! Oh, god. I wanted to dig a hole and crawl inside.

"I'm, ah, I'm a doctor . . ." he said. "I-I was on my way to work. And . . ."

More confusion. No idea how he got here, just like the others.

I bit my lip and Klaus plucked at my sleeve.

"Stay with them," he said to me, nodding his chin at the others.

"I intend to," I said, frowning at him.

He smiled, blue eyes bright in the shadowy half-light under the canopy of trees and understanding dawned.

"Where're you going?" I asked, more sharply than I intended. He couldn't leave! Could he?

"I said we were being followed," he told me. "And this here bores me. I think I'll go find our shadow."

O-okay . . . I wasn't sure what to say. No? Yeah, because refusing Klaus anything always works so well. So I just nodded my head, to show I understood and that I would stay with the group. Klaus vanished in a blur of speed so fast no one else even noticed. The doctor was climbing clumsily out of the pool, his soaked clothing weighing him down. I bit my lip again, not quite comfortable alone with this lot. But I figured I would be fine. For a while, anyway, just so long as I didn't make a fuss.

So rather than draw attention to the fact that Klaus was no longer with us, I kept my mouth shut.

Klaus had better be back by the time the Black Box counted down to zero, though, because I would leave with or without him. If he wanted to trap himself here, fine. But I did not want to spend more time in this spooky jungle than I had to and our way out was right here. With me. In my satchel . . .

* * *

**A QUICK WORD FROM DAYSTORM:**_ So sorry for the shortness of this chapter. I promise, next chapter will be longer!_


	6. Chapter 5 - The Greatest Trophy

_***It goes without saying that The Originals and every other film, book or franchise that will be mentioned in this fanfiction belong to their respectful owners. I claim no ownership or association to any of the many "universes" that will be visited in this fanfiction.***_

**Chapter 5**

**THE GREATEST TROPHY**

* * *

"Whoever they are, they take trophies. In my culture the warrior with the

greatest trophies commands the most respect."

– **Mombasa**

_Predator_ (2010)

* * *

Klaus was gone.

Hunting. Of course he was. Too little was going on – by his standards – to keep him interested in what the rest of us were doing. So Klaus took off, leaving me alone with a group of strangers to essentially fend for myself. Not that I really believed I was in great danger with any of them. Stans, the prison inmate in the orange jumpsuit bothered me. It was his eyes. He tended to leer. And that twitchy energy was scary. Not at all like Klaus' restlessness, Stans came across as someone coming down from a tremendous high. Everything he did was too fast. Jerky, spastic movements. Like a rabid squirrel. Too much energy and no clue where to channel it.

I avoided him.

Out of all of them, I found myself drawn to the woman. Isabelle was her name, and she struck me as the most level-headed. Even the dark-eyed Mercenary – Royce – who didn't come across as particularly vicious still had that hard ruthlessness. An edge that cautioned me to stay away.

Isabelle was different. Professional military, well-trained and clearly dangerous but sane. Like someone who would go home on the weekends and enjoy a beer in the backyard with a few friends. I liked the imagery. Now, I didn't want to admit I was drawn to her because she was the only other girl in our group. But that was most likely it. So once we got the doctor out of the water and started moving again, I stayed near Isabelle. Unwilling to walk by myself.

And then we found . . . _**it**_.

_Klaus really should have stayed with us,_ I thought in astonishment. Rising up from the earth like the immense spike of a subterranean beast was a curved metallic scythe. The thing was monstrously big. Taller than the surrounding trees. The sheer size of it seeming to press down on us. A weight on my shoulders, making me feel small and fragile. But the sleek, sharp slash of its shape was downright menacing. Like a knife.

The dull metal was heavily engraved with symbols set in neat, specific patterns. And at the base of the structure, piled into little pyramids in the grass and leaves were skulls.

Human. Skulls.

The stench was horrendous. Absolutely vile.

Of course, bone doesn't rot but flesh does and the bones had not been cleaned. Ragged strips of decomposing tissue clung to the brown bones, slick and slimy. The earth gummed my shoes, soggy with blood making it so that I didn't come any closer to the macabre display. The others approached with cautious interest. And morbid fascination.

"Who would do this?" Isabelle asked with a quiet disbelief.

I hung back, my insides quaking with a new fear. Terror, actually, coupled with sharp denial. I _**recognized**_ this. Not the totem or the jungle of the mess of bloody bones on the ground, but the combination of all of it. My mind emptied of every coherent thought as I struggled just to breathe.

Bones. Bones. Skulls.

Skulls with their spinal columns still attached at the base.

Unmistakable.

_Klaus was right,_ I thought numbly, shaking all over. Something was here with us. Unseen. Unknown. Watching. Hunting.

_**Predators**_. Just like in the movies.

Impossible! Was it, though? I'd met the Originals . . .

Over the strange buzz humming in my head, I heard Nikolai say, "It's a test."

He was in front of me, a few feet ahead. Closer to the totem than I had dared get. I stared at the back of his head, a weight settling in my chest. Despair. _No!_ I wanted to say. _No. You're wrong. __**I**__ know what's going on . . ._

The words were right there. Right on the tip of my tongue. But I don't know what happened. I wanted to talk. I wanted to tell them. These heavily armed, dangerous men and women. I wanted to warn them, even if they didn't believe me. But I couldn't do it. It was like my throat and tongue and lips went dead. I couldn't say a word.

Sounding like he didn't even believe himself, Nikolai added, "A test. To see how we do under pressure."

"If this were a test, you'd all be military," Isabelle argued. "We're total strangers. Live rounds. This is something else."

Yes, it was. The others all appeared to accept her assessment. Even Jumpsuit, looking nervously up at the vicious arc of the totem. I shifted my weight, not steady at all on the spongy earth beneath my boots. I rubbed my sweaty arms, feeling suddenly very cold. Chills raced over my skin.

"Maybe its ransom," the cartel enforcer offered. "Back in Tijuana we'd kidnap you. Put you in an oil drum. If the ransom's not paid . . . we light you on fire."

Oh, jeez.

I spun around, turning my back on all of it and covered my face with my hands. Not like hiding my eyes would make a difference. Did I care? No.

"I hear these stories, 'bout these experiments they run on cons," Jumpsuit threw out. "They stick drugs in your food and they sit back and watch what happens."

I was only barely paying attention to the others throwing ideas back and forth. Truth is, I wasn't actually hiding. I covered my face with my hands, hoping that nobody would hear me whispering out loud _"Klaus. Come back. Klaus. Klaus. They're coming. Klaus?"_ If he was anywhere in our general vicinity, he would hear my whispers. Wouldn't he? I thought he probably could, but chances were he had gone far away. Too far for even his hybrid hearing to pick up on my voice . . .

But I could hope. And I did. Klaus might still be around.

Behind me, the doctor was saying, "It's not drugs."

He sounded sure. No hesitation in his response. His voice carried the cool certainty of someone who actually knew what he was talking about. I turned around, paying closer attention and saw that everyone had done the same. The doctor's simple confidence catching our interest. Finally someone who knew something.

"If it were some kind of psychotropic compound, we'd be feeling the residual side effects," he went on, oblivious to the fact that he was now the centre of attention. "Loss of motor skills. Blurry vision. And if it was a behavioral experiment . . . there'd be a _**point**_."

Oh, there was a point alright.

I cleared my throat and opened my mouth – I would tell them; this time I would just come out and say it – but the African man interrupted before I could get a word out.

"What if we are dead?" he said.

Silence. For a single, terse moment no one moved.

The tension thickened, weighing the atmosphere. And even though I knew he was wrong, I felt that same heaviness closing around my heart. That same _'what if'_.

"I was gonna be executed in two days," Jumpsuit said quietly.

"And I was in combat," Nikolai offered.

The African man nodded. "So was I."

From the drug cartel enforcer, "This is hell."

It was said without question. A statement of fact.

Royce, the mercenary, turned sharply at that. Dark eyes flashing in irritation. "Last time I looked, you didn't need a parachute to get there."

And his tone said it all. _Bullshit._ There was an answer for what was happening to them. A rational one. But he wasn't completely insensitive to the moods of the others. He added, "It doesn't matter what happened. Or why. We're here. The only question is: how do we get out?"

I lay my hand against the side of my satchel. Felt the sharp corner of the Box through the leather. As strange as it was, hearing Royce's cool rational calmed my panic. Even though I knew the trouble we were in. Even though I was still desperately waiting for Klaus to come back. I calmed down. And where only a second ago, I would have kept my mouth shut I found the strength to speak up.

"We don't," I said.

Royce glanced over, eyes narrowing. "What?"

I took a breath and nodded toward the mess of bloody bones. Skulls and their spines with meat still attached. "What do you think did _**that**_? Does that look sane to you?"

A current moved through the group. Uneasiness. Weapons were touched, everyone checking to make sure they were within easy reach. Isabelle looked out into dense green jungle. The little hairs at the back of my neck prickled but I ignored the paranoid feeling that something was creeping up on me. Royce and I locked eyes. Years of conditioning not to start trouble dragged at my mind. I was almost sick with the need to break contact, don't make waves, shut up and be invisible.

Instead, I stared straight back. Openly daring Royce to argue.

I was going to throw up . . .

To my surprise, Royce was the first to blink. He hiked up his assault rifle, gave me one last hard look and then just walked away. I breathed a sigh but this wasn't over. Royce was heading back into the trees, making hardly a sound.

"Where're you going?" I demanded.

"To high ground," Royce called back. He didn't bother turning around.

"We really should stick together," I said.

Vanishing into the trees, I heard Royce respond with a brusque: "Then you should come with me."

Right.

Isabelle edged closer. She didn't look scared, but I noticed how her hands tightened around her sniper rifle. Finger safely off the trigger but hovering near. She was prepared. I squeezed my eyes shut completely at a loss. My confidence dissolving as the reality of the situation hit home. I did _**not**_ look at the macabre totem rising up out of the ground.

_Predators,_ I thought numbly. _Oh, god._

* * *

The day grew hotter the longer we trekked, moving steadily through densely packed jungle led by a silent Royce. He made no effort to lose us, but I sensed that anyone who lingered would be left behind. He wasn't faking disinterest. He really couldn't have cared less if we followed him or not.

Sweat trickled down the centre of my back, and my legs ached with the strain of keeping up. Steaming in my windbreaker, which trapped my own body heat against my skin I peeled off the coat and stuffed it into my satchel. Carefully wrapping it around the very valuable Black Box. I was tempted to check the countdown while my hands were in there, but didn't want to risk anyone seeing what I was doing. Sweat beaded my forehead. My hands and arms felt sticky with perspiration.

"I'm sorry about your friend," Isabelle said to me.

She kept her eyes forward as she did, voice coolly dispassionate but there was some interest there. Just a hint of curiosity that managed to break past her careful control. Her hair was frizzing a little bit in the humidity, I noticed. Shook my head. That wasn't important.

"Why are you sorry?" I asked.

She said, "He's gone."

I stiffened at that, breaking stride. Isabelle paused.

"He's coming back," I said, sounding defensive. Like I didn't believe it myself, but very much wanted to. The pitying look Isabelle offered made it clear what she thought. Frustration burned a hole in my belly. I wanted to deny it, and argue that Klaus hadn't abandoned me in this place but the truth was I was sure he had. It'd already been hours since he took off on his own, and there hadn't been any sign of him since then.

Truthfully, I wasn't sure Klaus really understood the trap we were in. I might have told him about the Black Box and that we were jumping into alternate universes but this was brand new to him. He didn't _**get it**_ yet. And that made him careless.

"He doesn't trust you," Isabelle went on, interrupting my silent monologue.

I glanced at her. "Who? Klaus?"

"No." She nodded towards Royce at the head of the party. "Him."

"Whatever," I muttered. Mr. Mercenary wasn't my biggest concern.

My heart was hammering. My whole body kept shifting between being too hot and then swelling with cold that caused chills to ripple down my back. A soft dizziness tilted in my head. I was overheating. And I needed water. You would think with so much green around there would be water everywhere but there wasn't. I cleared my throat.

"What does it matter what he thinks?" I asked. "Are you interrogating me?"

She offered a tight smile. Adjusted her grip on her rifle and said, "He thinks you know something."

"What about you?"

"I think he's right," Isabelle said. Her dark eyes sharpened and she cast a speculative glance my way.

I couldn't fault her suspicion. In her place, I didn't think I would have given me the time of day and I appreciated having someone to talk to. But I wished she would just let this drop. I wanted her to believe that I fell in via parachute like the rest of them. I also didn't want to lie. So I said nothing.

"You don't belong here," Isabelle pressed me. "So the question is; what do you know?"

I looked at my feet, watching my steps on the uneven ground. The silence stretched, tension mounting. Finally, I sighed. "None of us belong here. That's what I know."

But I was leaving. If I could just stay alive and away from the invisible Predators who might even then be taking aim at us, I would be gone. My hands itched to check the countdown, but I didn't really need to. So long as I was in possession of the Black Box when it hit zero I would be fine. And even without looking, I could feel the tic of each second passing . . . it reassured me. I had a way out of this place.

And _**what**_ were the Predators waiting for? It'd been hours.

Was I wrong? I might have jumped to conclusions, assuming there were Predators anywhere in this world. But I couldn't ignore those skulls and spines. A signature move.

Air hissed sharply from the sky.

I froze, immediate terror snapping like lightning through my blood. Charging my body and numbing it. I didn't see what it was, the object flying too quickly but the mechanical whirring of something like a kite or airfoil hummed in my head. It flew so low that the breeze of its passing ruffled my hair. But my mind, already turned towards monsters overreacted to the noise.

I ducked down, dropping to my knees while those with weapons lifted guns to shoulders. Isabelle put her eye to her scope, searching in the direction the thing had gone but the canopy was too thick. Even I could tell she wouldn't see anything. Jumpsuit was back, riding whatever crazy-high he lived by. Twitching. Eyes wild. My own eyes widened at the sight of the short, sharp shank in his hand. A makeshift knife. The guy was _**armed**_? Why was I surprised?

The flying-thing was gone and silence descended. A couple very long seconds where everyone just stood and waited for . . . for _**something**_. Something more to happen. Nothing did.

I very slowly lifted myself up off the ground. Pulse galloping in my chest.

"This is bullshit!" Jumpsuit shouted, looking at his knife and then around at everyone else. "I want a gun!"

Ah, hell no. I glanced at Isabelle but her attention was fixed on the man currently loosing what was left of his mind.

"I want a gun, huh! I want a gun!" He spun around, as if actually believing someone might just hand one over. "C'mon Russian! You got a big f*cken gun!"

Nikolai didn't budge.

Jumpsuit rounded on Isabelle, swaggering a little. Maybe thinking that because she was female, she would capitulate easier. Not happening. She was military. Trained. Strong and skilled, not some little schoolgirl. She wouldn't be scared of him, and Jumpsuit must have seen the warning in her dark eyes because he swept past without saying anything to her.

Jumpsuit – who I now new was actually a _**death row**_ prison inmate thanks to his little confession earlier about a scheduled execution – calmed himself and turned to the African man.

"C'mon," he said, imploring. "Gimme a gun."

No.

Fast as a spitting snake, Jumpsuit lunged forward and pressed the tip of his knife into the African man's throat. A bead of dark blood welled up under the blade. Teeth bared, snarling, Jumpsuit hissed, "Gimme the gun! Right now."

Weapons came up. No one fired, they were only just waiting to see what would happen but the threat was very real. If Jumpsuit lost it now, he would die. I didn't want to move, or even breathe in case violence erupted. How was it possible to feel emotion on the air like that? I couldn't believe the crackle of dangerous energy snapping the atmosphere.

There was no fear in the African man's eyes. His face stoic, almost as if bored with this whole thing, he pressed the barrel of his handgun up under Jumpsuit's chin.

"I'm ready to die," he said, very simply. "Are you?"

My heart was pounding. The way he said it was just so matter-of-fact. He meant it.

A low growl rolled out of the trees like thunder.

I almost didn't hear it, so focused on the scene happening right in front of me. But the others did and seeing them turn towards the sound made my skin crawl. Another deep growl rumbled out of the shadows. Leaves rustled and the sound of heavy paws thumping the ground.

A rough hand grasped my wrist and pulled me back.

"Stay down," Isabelle ordered.

I nodded and stood back, behind the wall of people leveling guns in the direction of the noise. The doctor stood next to me, equally unarmed and helpless. He paid no attention to me, and I could not have cared less about him in return. We were waiting. Watching. Scared of what was coming but confused as to what to do.

And then, there they were!

Four of them. Four immense, nightmarish beasts. I would have expected it to take longer, for them to gradually draw nearer and nearer until they were right on top of us. But that didn't happen. It was so _**fast**_! One second, nothing, and then pandemonium! They were huge and scary and brutally quick.

Reptilian creatures. Four legs, with wide paws and claws. Thick bone tusks sticking out of fanged mouths. Sharp, wicked quills cutting sharply up and out of their backs and flanks. Small, evil eyes . . .

They raced out of the trees, powerful bodies propelling themselves forward and they were on us! The firing started immediately. Thunderous _rat-ta-ta_'s and _bang-bang-bang_'s. The beasts didn't stop. Didn't hesitate. Snarling savagely, they kept coming. Fearless. Maddened.

The first creature howled manically and . . . exploded! Blood and guts flying everywhere. He just blew up! I screamed. I wanted to fall down and hide but that wouldn't work, so instead I spun away. Lungs burning in the steamy humidity and ran away. I wasn't the only one. Jumpsuit took off in the other direction.

"Klaus!" I cried. My feet fairly flew over the ground. I ran as fast and as hard as I could. Out of my mind. Not really even thinking. Just overcome with this driving need to get away. To escape. Betrayal burned in my chest. Where was he? Klaus the Original Hybrid. Where was he? He left me! I couldn't believe he just . . . didn't come back.

My head spun with noise. The howl and barks from the creatures. The rapid gunfire, each one so much louder than they ever seemed on television. Mini-detonations. Short, sharp cracks of thunder. From somewhere off to my left, the frantic call of "Help!" from one of the men. I couldn't tell who. Didn't recognize the voice.

Noises.

I stopped; skidding on the slick ground and nearly fell. Heart hammering. Gulping air. Heavy paws padded stealthy, pacing around the wide circumference of an immense tree. It couldn't have seen me yet, but I knew it was aware of me. Soft, wet snarls and hisses that sounded entirely too expectant for it to only be searching.

Quietly as I could, I edged closer to the tree. No. No, not like this.

I didn't want to die . . . tears blurred my vision. Hot. Stinging.

Gunfire still beat the air. Spreading out, now, as people scattered. More voices rising over all the other noises. Human voices. I couldn't tell if anyone was dead yet. But I couldn't worry about them. The creature was circling closer. I could not climb the tree, as I'd intended. The trunk was too smooth. And the monster with claws might just come up after me anyway.

Red slime dripped down the trunk, slicking it.

The creature roared; a sound that rattled my bones. I screamed again, not even meaning to. I just did. I screamed and scrambled back, but tripped and hit the ground with a jarring thud. It bounced out from behind the tree and advanced, teeth glistening. Tossing its head to hook with its huge tusks. Claws dug into the earth. My hand closed over a rough stone, half-buried in the mud. Useless.

The creature lunged for me and I braced for the bright burst of pain I would feel. A scream of denial keening in my head. A bullet ripped through its head and from fifty feet away I saw Isabelle down on one knee. Her deadly black sniper rifle raised, eye to the scope.

But my own eyes were fixed. Not on Isabelle but on the shadowy figure in the tree above me. Impaled by a javelin straight through his chest, blood pouring in thick rivulets down the trunk of the tree. What I had mistaken for red slime.

Klaus.

I'd found Klaus.

And he was dead . . .


	7. Chapter 6 - The Immortal Hybrid

_***It goes without saying that The Originals and every other film, book or franchise that will be mentioned in this fanfiction belong to their respectful owners. I claim no ownership or association to any of the many "universes" that will be visited in this fanfiction.***_

**Chapter 6**

**THE IMMORTAL HYBRID**

* * *

"Anyway, every once in a while one of us kills one of them.

And let me tell you, that's when they get interested."

– **Noland**

_Predator_ (2010)

* * *

Klaus' blood was on my hands, slicking them horribly while I struggled to pull the spear out of chest. But the thing hadn't only gone through his body; it also punched right into a couple feet of solid wood. Effectively pinning Klaus to the tree and making it near-impossible for me to get him down. I just wasn't strong enough to manage it. But I kept trying. My hands getting bloodier while the metal javelin just got slippery.

"Enough," Isabelle said, grabbing me by the arms and dragging me away.

"No!" I said sharply. "No. Help me get him down from there!"

Her hands tightened. "He's gone, Amanda. He's gone . . ."

"He's not!" I shouted without thinking. He wasn't. Klaus was alive. No metal pole through the chest could kill an Original. He was just out for a while. Or did the show get that wrong? God, I didn't know! And I hated it. I hated not knowing anything.

Mistaking my confusion for grief, Isabelle pulled me bodily away from the man impaled twelve feet off the ground. Nearly lifting me off my feet as she did. I fought her, slamming my fists against the solid bulletproof vest she wore beneath her fatigues. Pointlessly.

"He's not dead," I said, trying to lower my voice so that I didn't sound crazy shouting at her. "Help me get him down. Please. We got to pull the spear out."

"Amanda, enough," Isabelle said. "It's time to go."

_Go?_ I thought furiously. _Oh, it was time to go alright. Leaving was long overdue._

How much time left until we could zap out of this hellish world? I didn't want to be here and Klaus was . . . well, Klaus was nailed to a tree. Even though he looked very, very dead to me. I wanted to believe he was still alive. The immortal hybrid.

I stopped struggling, going limp in Isabelle's arms.

Suspecting a trick, she released me but slowly. Tense. Waiting for me to run or something, but I really couldn't figure what else she thought I might have been planning to do. I didn't run. Instead, I turned around to face her and placed my hand on her arm. Looked very seriously up into her eyes, needing her to see that I wasn't hysterical.

I said, "Please. Just help me get him down."

She hesitated. Her attention turned towards where the rest of the group had gathered around the decapitated and bullet-riddled body of one of the beasts that'd tried to eat us. Out of the four that had come after us, we only managed to kill two. The one Isabelle had shot, splattering its brains everywhere with a single well-placed shot. She saved me. The other died when it was nearly ripped apart by the sheer barrage of bullets slamming into its hard, spiked body.

The others, though, were called off by a shrill whistle from some place out of sight. The whistle had faded quickly, and I couldn't help but think that the jungle created some sort of illusion. The denseness of the trees muffled sounds too well. The whistle had sounded far away but . . . to hear it so clearly through all the trees; it would have had to come from close by.

Isabelle heaved a sigh and un-slung her rifle from over her shoulder, returning it to her hands. I stepped back but she only said, "You have a few minutes to get your friend down. I really am sorry this happened. Hurry."

Isabelle left me to return to the others. I was still within sight of them, but it was hard not to feel very alone. Isolated. Still, I appreciated her little bit of kindness. She thought she was giving me a moment to say goodbye.

I swallowed hard and glanced at Klaus. He was slumped slightly forward, all his weight suspended by the glistening silver spear through his chest. The slightest breeze slid through the trees, rustling leaves all around us. Above us. I actually preferred the unnatural silence. Nerves prickled over my skin as I imagined the distinctive clicking-growl of the Predators on the wind.

Stepping carefully up onto the thick roots, which were sticking out of the earth as if the tree once tried to climb out and walk away, I placed my hands on the blood-slicked trunk and lifted myself to where Klaus was hanging. His skin was the color of ash. Blood gummed in his shirt, the sight churning my stomach but now was not the time to get squeamish. _Everybody has blood. It is not a big deal. You're good, Amanda._

"Klaus?" I whispered, pitching my voice to where it was only a breath of air. "Klaus? Please, wake up."

Nothing. No movement. No evidence of life.

My pulse thudded and I tried again. Holding on with one hand so that I didn't fall off my perch, I extended the other and very gently lifted Klaus' face from where his chin rested on his chest. His stubble pricked my skin, rougher than I expected. A small rivulet of crimson trickled out from the corner of his mouth. I brushed my thumb over his rough cheek and whispered, "Klaus. Wake up. C'mon, don't do this to me."

His skin was warm, I noticed. I didn't have much experience with dead bodies – or _**any**_ experience, really – but I imagined they'd be cold. And there, right before my eyes Klaus' color began to improve. As I watched, his skin pinked and the sickly ash-gray faded. My heart skipped with something that felt very much like joy. I curled my fingers into a loose fist, but kept my hand pressed to his cheek. Hoping that the contact would bring him back faster. Reassuring him, even if he didn't think he needed it.

I was here. I didn't leave him . . .

Klaus opened his eyes, and they were blue.

He looked at me.

"Are you okay?" I asked quietly. Realized what a monumentally awkward question that was to ask someone with an eight foot javelin sticking out of their chest. But Klaus' expression was fixed. He very calmly looked down at the thing, showing no more alarm than if he just noticed a mosquito bite on the back of his hand. Dark, dark blood continued to dribble off the end of the spear.

"I tried to get it out," I told him. "But it's stuck."

Klaus ripped the javelin out of himself with a single hard yank. Freed from the tree, he dropped to the ground and landed standing up. No stumble. No weakness. I followed with a little less grace, climbing down from my perilous perch. Klaus didn't say a word. Didn't even look at me but I could feel his focus. His attention.

"They think you're dead," I told him. "They all saw you up there. Pinned. How are you going to explain that you're alright?"

I didn't raise my voice, not wanting to be overheard by the others but also careful not to provoke Klaus. He was being so quiet, so controlled that I couldn't really tell what sort of mood he was in. These past few hours, I'd missed him terribly but it suddenly occurred to me that I had no real idea of how to handle being around him. Was I in danger, here?

Klaus was standing with his hands on his hips. Dark shirt had a glistening wet spot in the middle of it. He didn't look like he cared. Tilting his head back, Klaus took a deep breath and offered a tight smile. "They were invisible."

"W-what?"

"I couldn't see them," he said. "But I could _**hear**_ them. The entire time. They were invisible."

The Predators. Of course.

I glanced up at the tree Klaus was nailed to. Thick rivulets of blood sticky, unable to dry in the hot humidity. Making it so that I couldn't tell how long he'd been there. Not too long, I was sure, because it wouldn't have taken him very much time to revive after being _'killed'_ but long enough for the monsters who put him there to have wandered off? Or were the Predators lurking? Somewhere close by, in the trees.

I looked at the carcass of the tusked beast crumbled in the mud.

"How many were there?" I asked without thinking. I crossed my arms, holding on to myself and my skin felt sweaty and warm. Little prickling chills raising goose bumps. "I saw the movie, but I can't remember . . . how many Predators there were."

Klaus turned sharply, eyes flashing. "Movie?"

Crap. I hadn't meant to say that! How to explain that I knew where we were only because where I come from; this whole thing was only a movie. Predators. But I was freaking out – I was terrified – and saying things I shouldn't.

A low, rumbling snarl came from Klaus' throat. He rounded on me, blue eyes turning brilliant gold. Lips pulled back to expose sharp, hard fangs. I trembled and Klaus backed me up against the huge tree. I flattened against the trunk, arms held helplessly down at my sides. I pressed my hands into the warm wood and held my breath. Eyes widening.

"What are they?" he demanded, air hissing from between his teeth. I couldn't keep my eyes off his fangs. Sharp. Very sharp and _**right there**_. It was nothing in real-life like it was in the show. He could bite me, kill me, and no one could stop him. Because this was real.

He was real.

"T-they're hunters," I stuttered, stumbling over the words. "They . . . hunt. Take creatures from all over, bring them here. Hunt them down and kill them. Looking for the perfect prey, or else just trying to become better predators. They learn from their kills. How to get stronger. Smarter. It's all about the hunt."

"How do you know this?" he demanded.

God, I wished he'd at least put his fangs away. And those eyes! Burning. Bright gold.

"I . . . I . . ."

Klaus snarled, the sound incredibly wolfish coming from a human throat. Or vampire throat. Whatever. It made the hairs on my arms stand up. I held still, just looking at him. Waiting for what he would do next, because let's be honest. The power was his.

"_**What**_ are they?" he said again, empathizing the word.

I gasped. "Aliens. They're a race of predatory . . . aliens."

I could not believe those words actually came out of my mouth. I could not believe I said them without laughing! Aliens? I sounded like a crazy person. But it was the truth! I wouldn't dare lie to Klaus now. Not with those wicked sharp teeth only inches from my throat.

Only, Klaus wasn't laughing. Wasn't sneering. He didn't call me on the ludicrousness of aliens stalking us through the jungle. Instead, he pulled back. Not far, giving me just enough room to breathe again and I nearly collapsed in his arms from sheer relief. I didn't do that, either. Locking my knees and leaning on the tree at my back to keep myself upright.

He was silent. Considering my words with a deceptive calmness. He glanced down at the reeking carcass of the creature Isabelle killed to save me. The sight must have distracted him because Klaus' eyes shifted back to blue. After a second, I followed his gaze. The creature was as large as a German shepherd dog. Not massive, exactly, but big enough. It looked smaller now that it was dead. Before it'd been teeth and tusks and spikes. Evil eyes shining with savage expectation. Claws tearing up the earth as it propelled itself towards us like a missile.

Finally, Klaus said, "Where's the cube?"

I blinked.

"The cube!" he advanced, pressing me back up against the tree – again. "Your device with the number."

"I –" I started, then yelped with surprise. I would have shown him, but Klaus had no patience to wait for me to make sense of what he wanted. He just pulled my leather satchel around, yanking my whole body forward along with the bag. I stammered a little bit as he dug around, then pulled out the Black Box. My mouth officially went dry.

In the organic green light that was all that managed to filter down through the thick canopy of leaves, the Box was an amazing sight.

Black-on-black. Completely colorless. It didn't absorb any light. Didn't reflect any light. It was the most inexplicable sense of nothingness. Like there was nothing there, even though I could clearly see that there was.

"Klaus?" I ventured.

Was he going to take it from me? My heart stalled with that thought. No. No, please . . . he couldn't leave me here. Abandon me in any world, Klaus, but not _**this**_ one.

The wide smirk cutting across his expression was cause to worry.

My mind whirled, trying to find a way out of this mess. I couldn't fight him. Couldn't outsmart him, I was sure. What did I have? Negotiation? No. No deals. I could just talk to him. Just . . . talk. I stayed with him, after all. When Isabelle would have dragged me away, I fought her. To stay with the Original Hybrid and try to pull the spear lose even though I was not quite strong enough. I still tried.

Why did I do that? Because. Because no matter what, I still believed that he and I were in this together. And right there was my answer. Give Klaus back a measure of the control, the power, he thought he lost.

"How much time do we have left?" I asked him, quietly. Keeping my voice calm, as if he couldn't hear my heart thundering.

Klaus glanced at me, the arrogant tilt to his mouth faltering a bit. I thought I saw a flicker of surprise shadow his eyes but maybe not. The smirk returned and he dropped the Box to hold it with both hands. Surprising _**me**_, now, in that he remembered what I'd done hours ago in the room-universe to activate the countdown.

I edged closer to look and saw stars erupt from the centre of the cube. Was astounded to discover that from sideways, the clock was invisible. I really could not see the numbers.

"Hour and a half," Klaus said after a moment.

I dropped back down on my feet, not even noticing that I was standing on my toes to see and breathed an immense sigh of relief. Okay. That was good. Not long now and we'd be away from this awful place.

Klaus tilted his head, listening intensely for a second and then shifted to look around the side of the tree. A shiver rolled down the length of my spine. "What?"

"Your friends are gone," he said.

Wait, what?

I spun around, the heels of my ankle boots digging holes in the ground and stumbled. Pressed my hands against the tree and peeked around the side. No one was there. A light breeze tossed the leaves, branches clacking against each other. It was all very, very quiet. More creeps shivered over my skin.

"How did you _**not**_ notice them taking off?" I blurted, accusing. Turned back towards Klaus, to find him watching me with something that could only be described as laughter. I scowled, not understanding it but fine. He was laughing at me.

"You have a bit of a temper, love," he remarked. And that one sentence was as familiar as he'd gotten with me since we met. Of course. A temper. I was wetting myself just a second ago.

I hesitated, not sure if we were good. Breathed a quiet sigh and offered a small smile. If nothing else, I didn't want to fight with him. A bead of sweat tickled as it slid out of my hairline, trailing down over my temple then the side of my face. I wiped at it with the back of my hand. Klaus was still holding the Black Box. Down by his side, with one hand.

"Klaus," I said.

His fingers tightened around the Box. The air behind him blurred. My eyes came up and I looked at that blurring, confused by the way green sunlight seemed to refract. Bouncing off something mirror-like. Confusion gave way to realization and I opened my mouth to scream! To warn him!

Klaus spun, snarling. Blindingly fast.

Like the crack of a bullwhip.

Blood sprayed, bright and thick to splatter across the front of Klaus' shirt.


	8. Chapter 7 - The Greater Hunter - Part 1

_***It goes without saying that The Originals and every other film, book or franchise that will be mentioned in this fanfiction belong to their respectful owners. I claim no ownership or association to any of the many "universes" that will be visited in this fanfiction.***_

**A QUICK WORD FROM DAYSTORM:**_ Hello, everyone! And thank you so, so much for still being here given my very long . . . well, let's call it a break. I'm very sorry for the pause I took in updating my stories but for these past few weeks I haven't been able to write – not at all._

_This happens to me periodically, and I think it's because I tend to write so much so quickly that every few months it's like my brain just says: "That's it. We're done." LOL For real. I haven't been able to write anything worth the effort for weeks, now, which is why my updates stopped._

_But I'm back now. I wrote the majority of this in one sitting so I think I've rested and now I'm ready to start writing in earnest again. :)_

_Again, thank you to everyone who's reading and enjoying this story. Part 2 of this chapter will be up very, very soon. No forever-waits this time. And the Part 2 will be the last chapter in the Predator's universe before they're whisked away to some new world._

_All my best,_

_DayStorm_

**Chapter 7**

**THE GREATER HUNTER – Part 1**

* * *

"Wound one man. Make him suffer. Make him bleed. Make him call out for help and set a trap,

and kill those who come. I know, because I have done this."

– **Mombasa**

_Predator_ (2010)

* * *

My hands hit the ground first, catching me as I fell. Fingers curling into the wet earth.

I slipped. My shoes skidding on the slick mud and leaf-rot coating the ground. Startled by the violence of what just happened. Bright, florescent green blood splattered the mud in front of my face. I saw it coating Klaus' hands; dripping off the ends of his fingers. Blood that glowed like toxic waste. And where Klaus had felt the need to flash his fangs while trying to scare me only a few seconds before; with the Predators his eyes stayed blue.

Coolly unimpressed by the monster that'd tried to kill him . . . again.

The headless body of the Predator hissed into sight with an electrical crackling. Like a power line shorting out. This huge creature with the bulk of a bear but it moved like a jungle cat. It stayed standing for a few seconds, muscles stiffening in death holding their position until the weight of the body caused the knees to buckle. The whole thing just toppled over, hitting the ground with a muffled _whoomph_.

I stayed where I was for a second, craning my neck up to look at Klaus. Taking my cues from him, because let's be honest – if there was another invisible-monster lurking he would know it before I did. But Klaus wasn't looking for monsters. He shifted his weight, eyes passing over the decapitated body with interest. Heart hammering, I slowly lifted myself up off the ground.

I stared at the creature. Surprisingly unafraid of this huge dead alien, lying stiff and so close I could have reached out and touched him without needing to take a step.

Surprising because I'd been teetering on the brink of hysteria for hours, now. Living in a state of readiness-fear-paranoia from the moment I discovered the world we'd landed in. And then finding Klaus impaled on that glistening silver javelin without knowing for sure if he would recover or if he was really dead . . . I was hanging onto my composure by my fingernails.

I needed to be brave. To survive this mess. I needed to be strong.

But I wasn't strong. I wasn't brave.

I just . . . I only just managed.

This should have been the most frightening moment of my life, but instead of throwing myself on the ground in a fit of hysterics I felt my panic sort of fade away. Standing in the green jungle, with a dead alien and a vampire-werewolf hybrid and I was nowhere near as scared as I should have been. Or maybe it was just that fear had a limit. Like a person could only hold onto it for so long before the body wears out and decides it's had enough.

I was numb, now. Not afraid.

I lifted my eyes from the headless corpse. Klaus struck the Predator with so much force that the creature's head actually flew clean off; leaving a dent in the wood of the tree it slammed into before dropping to the ground. The head, still wearing its menacing mask lay in the mud like a discarded bowling ball.

"There are others," I said, quietly.

Klaus slowly turned his face up, golden lights starting to bleed into the blue of his eyes. A dangerous cut to his smirk. My heart leapt into my throat, but it wasn't the menace radiating off of him that worried me. No. His gaze was fixed on a point beyond the trees. Past the thick curtain of vegetation to where he couldn't possibly be see anything. And I knew he was listening . . .

I wasn't an idiot. I knew Klaus killed the Predator to protect himself, not me.

I knew not to count on him doing it again.

And he was still holding my precious Black Box. He took off once already, because he felt I was slowing him down. If he decided to just go again, he was taking my Box with him. And _**that**_ scared me. Without stopping to think if I should, I lay my hand on his arm. The sleeve of his coat was warm and soft against my fingers. The black leather like butter. His arm was hard; wiry but with muscle. I could feel him coiling.

"C'mon," I said. "We should go."

He snorted. Turned around and pulled his arm from my grasp. Pointed off into the trees behind us. "Your friends are a hundred yards that way, love."

The group. Isabelle and Royce and everyone else . . . was Klaus telling me to go away? Or only just offering me the option? I shook my head. No. Klaus.

As close as I was to him, he rounded on me. Bringing himself even nearer so that our shoes touched. A good head taller he towered over me. "Are you afraid to go off on your own? Can't say I blame you. They _**are**_ frightening . . ." the last said with a slight head-tilt toward the dead alien.

The golden lights were gone from his eyes, I noted. Shifted back to their natural cool blue color they were somehow even more menacing than when they glowed. Like a wolf. I could feel the restless energy that danced through him, but there was still this careful focus where you just knew he was paying attention. Alert and aware of every single thing. I felt a small thrill at the rightness of it; that as potentially dangerous as Klaus might be to me . . . there was also nowhere safer to be than right there beside him.

If Klaus meant to scare me, he failed.

"Give me the Box," I said.

He blinked. "Excuse me?"

"The Black Box," I repeated, motioning towards the hand holding it down at his side. I kept my gaze steady on his. "You want me to go, I'll go. But not without the Box."

A flicker of pleased surprise passed through his expression, so quickly I might have imagined it. For nearly a whole minute he stayed like that. And then Klaus backed away with a smile that said he was entertained, and that he'd let me live because of it.

He shoved the Black Box in my hands and I caught it, fingers scrabbling not to drop it. The Box was smooth and cool against my sweaty skin. I forgot how heavy it was. The size of a square alarm clock; it pulled on my wrists. But I was glad to have it back. This incredible rush of cool relief swept through me just knowing I had it back.

I _**really**_ didn't like not having it with me.

Klaus sauntered over to the Predator's discarded head. While he did that, I carefully placed the Black Box safely back inside my satchel.

Klaus picked the heavy Predator-head from the ground. They gray facemask didn't glint in the misty sunlight, the metal dulled instead of polished. Bright green blood and other gore slopped from the head, at the opening where there used to be a neck. I swallowed hard, bile rising so far up into my throat that I could taste the bitterness on my tongue.

"What are you doing?" I asked, whishing he would put the head down.

Klaus offered a taunting glance. "You're not curious?"

"No," I told him, sharply.

I knew he intended to pull the mask off, so that he could see the creature's face for himself. I understood his interest. I really did. But . . .

. . . we didn't have time for this!

The look Klaus gave me said he'd read my mind. He sensed my impatience but I'd already made it very clear that I wasn't willing to leave without him. I was staying put. Klaus wasn't worried and I wondered if maybe that's why he let me have the Box back. He knew I wasn't going anywhere.

Frustrated, I spun away from him and stomped off into the trees.

Klaus chuckled. "Where're you going?"

"Away," I said, shooting it over my shoulder. "I'm going to check the countdown on the Box while we're alone and in-between disasters. You just look at your alien head. I don't want to see."

No need to mention I already knew what the Predator looked like. Mandibles and spikes and evil little eyes were not going to be good for my peace of mind. I was doing okay, now. I didn't need to get scared again. I heard another low chuckle – more like a snort – from the vampire but didn't turn around. I didn't hesitate, either, to skip down a low rise.

Again, I wasn't going very far. I meant it when I said I would stick with Klaus.

I remembered the ferocity of the animals that'd chased us through the trees, scattering everyone like dogs sent to flush partridge out of the grass. And yes, it worried me that that might be exactly what they were meant to do. A high, shrill whistle called the animals back and they retreated like a well-trained squadron. Perfect because I already knew we were being hunted. Why not flush us out? Separate us? Watch how we react; where we go.

I stopped moving, my left foot catching on a skinny root sticking out of the ground. I didn't trip over it but had to stop and carefully pull my foot free or else pitch forward into the mud. It was so quiet out here, away from anyone else. Klaus was only a few yards away but for all intents and purposes I could have been all alone. The creaking of wood as the wind hushed through the trees. The rustle of leaves, like the rush of the surf. It was loud. But still, somehow, so quiet.

I could see the sky through the canopy of branches; hard blue and without even a hint of cloud to soften the stark expanse of sky. An alien sky so familiar and yet so, so wrong. This whole place wasn't right. It seemed artificial to me. Deliberate. Like a forest in an amusement park made to look real but you knew it wasn't.

"Maybe I'm in the Matrix," I muttered. A shiver rolled up my back and I trembled, wrapping my arms around myself.

In my whole life, I had never wanted to go home so badly. I was sick of this.

I heard nothing, but the sensation of being watched came so suddenly and was so strong that I could feel eyes burning holes in my back. I turned my head, thinking that Klaus had come up behind me and –

* * *

Fire coursed through me, twisting my body into one hard knot of pain. My arms forced up and over my head; wrists coiled in a metallic rope so tight it cut into my skin. Crimson rivulets caked down the length of my bare arms, looking very much like the cracks in a dry riverbed. My feet suspended several inches off the ground, toes pointing down. I was hanging, helplessly by my arms and the strain on my body was shockingly painful.

Joints twisted. Knotted. On fire.

It hurt worse at the joints because those were the weakest points. This is where I would come apart. Arm bones disconnected from shoulder bones. Shoulder bones disconnected from the back bone . . . I whimpered, air hissing feebly from my lungs as the strain seemed to pull at every nerve and tendon inside of me.

My face was wet with tears. Soggy and sticky.

I woke up like this. Tied to a post with no memory as to how I got there.

I knew I must have been stunned. Knocked clear unconscious. And it had to be fast, for there to be absolutely no memory of the event. I couldn't remember being attacked. I couldn't remember _**anything**_. The pain in my spine said I'd been captured, and that I must have been hanging for a long while. I wasn't sure why I was taken instead of killed but there was no mistaking where I was.

Craning my neck, gasping at the furious pain that coursed through my entire skeleton at the slightest movement, I struggled to look around. Get my bearings.

I was in the centre of a small clearing. Not even that. It was scarcely more than a cleared area surrounded by thick jungle. Surrounded by totems and the gruesome remnants of various trophies. There were bones and skulls from both humans and other alien races. Some so grotesque I couldn't even begin to guess what they must have looked like with skin on them. Each and every one hunted and killed by the Predators.

A shuddering sob trembled in my chest. It was nearly impossible to breathe. Hanging by my arms like this, I was only able to draw short, shallow gulps of air. Air that reeked of blood and rotting meat. Like death. This whole placed smelled of death. Why? Why wasn't I killed?

Flexing the aching muscles in my arms, I tried to lift myself up just a little. Just enough to ease some of the strain but the sheer effort of trying to move shot a pain so sever through my arms and down my back – crackling white fire following the length of my spine that it felt like someone poured a pot of boiling pasta water over my skin.

I almost screamed, only managing to hold in the cry because I didn't have the breath to spare.

Fresh tears pooled in my eyes. Rolled over my cheeks to mix with the sticky stuff. I hung there, panting. Trying to ride it out and slowly, the fire faded to something more manageable. My eyes fell on to the ground. Too weakened to move more than that.

A felt a bolt of surprise when I noticed my bad. The sand-colored satchel with its rope of crystal-charms glinting like jewels in the dim sunshine. And inside . . . I couldn't quite tell, but I thought maybe I could just see a corner of the Black Box poking up against the soft leather.

My pulse skipped.

The Box.

How long was I out? Klaus and I shouldn't have had very much time left in this world – that's what I was counting on! An escape. We were already so close to the countdowns' finish that I hadn't really cared where the number was at. The only reason I left Klaus to "check" the clock was that I hadn't wanted to see him remove the Predator mask from the decapitated head.

I think a part of me really believed that so long as I didn't have to _**see**_ them, I could keep the reality of this place fictional. So that when we finally jumped out of this world, I could lock it away in a corner of my mind where I stored other useless things. A mistake, I knew now.

I _**left**_ Klaus' side.

Stupid. So stupid.

What had the Predators done to him? I winced at the thought, but then had to wonder if Klaus would have cared enough to try and save me when I was taken. I would have liked to think he would, if only because . . . well, because . . . but I couldn't know for sure.

"H-help!" I managed, weakly. My voice hardly more than a choked gasp. I drew a shuddering breath, forcing it through the tightness in my chest. Tried again, "Help! I-I'm here!"

I started shaking, which of course increased the strain on my already overextended body. I wanted to cry. I wanted to give up. At that exact moment, my courage faltered and I wanted to just close my eyes and blink out. I was going to die horribly in this place, and no one was going to save me. No one was coming . . . I just wanted it to end, quickly, before the Predators returned.

But that option wasn't available. I was alone so I needed to help _**myself**_. And that meant I needed to figure things out.

Step one: get down.

I kicked my heels against the post again, hoping to feel some give in the wires twisted around my wrists. Fresh blood seeped from the cuts, stinging hot against my sweaty skin. But the wires held firm. Frustration fired and I changed tactics, attempting to lift myself up by my arms even knowing how badly it hurt the first time. Muscles all through my body seemed to be tearing themselves apart but I couldn't stop. Desperation and a growing sense of time running out kept me from succumbing to the hurt. I really, really needed to get free!

Through the blur of tears, I could see my satchel on the ground. Knew the Box was inside. Was terrified that I was about to watch the whole think blink out and vanish right before my eyes. Off to some other universe leaving me trapped in this place forever. Panic swelled on the heels of that thought and I screamed.

No. Nononono.

Something moved in the jungle.

I froze, heart thumping like a drumbeat. Gulping great heaving gasps of air so hot it was practically steam. My head gave a nice whirl of dizziness but my attention was fixed on what I'd seen.

It was subtle. Just the slightest rustle of leaves. I _**sensed**_ more than saw or heard them. An impression of bodies displacing air as they approached. I held my breath, lungs already burning from the lack of oxygen I was able to take in over the pull of being suspended like a scarecrow by a twisted farmer.

They came out of the trees like shadows. Stealthy. Cautious.

"R-Royce!" I called softly.

He was the first to appear, and of course he'd seen me. Those sharp, dark eyes missed nothing. My relief at the sight of him was so great I nearly burst into tears. Professional mercenary, he didn't rush right over to cut me loose. Instead he paused just inside the tree-line and scanned the small clearing with a deliberate attention. Assault rifle sweeping the area, following the same path as his gaze. Alert for threats. For a trap.

Of course, I thought in a sudden burst of realization. A trap.

Is that why I was left alive? To be bait?

Royce wasn't alone. The others in our ragtag group of killers emerged from the thick foliage. Jumpsuit – the death row inmate – stood out like an inkblot on white canvas in his bright orange. The man stood there, hair spiky and tangled from the humidity with his sharp knife still held tight in a fist and just sort of stared at me. Bewildered.

I wiggled against the post. I wanted to shout at them to stop looking for an ambush and just cut me down already! I couldn't take much more of this. Pain aside, the sheer vulnerability of hanging there like a worm on a hook was maddening. My stomach felt too soft. My sides – ribs especially – felt tight. Almost ticklish because I knew anything could just grab me.

"Hold still," a voice commanded. I squeaked and twisted against my bonds, surprised by the nearness of the person who spoke. I hadn't noticed them approach.

Isabelle worked quickly. Strong hands pulled at the wires cutting into my wrists, and she used a heavy military-knife to try and pry them loose. I held myself perfectly still, not wanting to get in her way. But the metal wires were wound so tightly that it was slow work and I was feeling the tic of each second like a thrumming on my nerves. I started to sweat.

Royce was still in the trees, assault rifle held firmly. Continuing his careful sweeps of the little clearing. Nobody else moved any further in, either. They were waiting. Watchful. If I really was being used as bait by the Predators, then I was starting to think there was one major flaw in their plan. The trap was kinda obvious. And the creatures hadn't sprung it yet.

Confused, I looked at my satchel on the ground. At Royce. Isabelle's warm hands tugging and pulling at the wires digging into my skin.

Something wasn't right. The thought was there . . . a realization skipping just out of reach. We'd missed something. But what?

A burst of hot prickles quickly followed by a blinding pain rolled through my hands as the ropes finally came loose and blood rushed back into them. I gasped, my vision blurring for just a second as I nearly fainted into Isabelle's arms. She caught me and carefully lowered me to the ground.

Holding me with one arm, braced against my chest she brushed my hair back with the other. Pulling trailing strands out of my sweaty face and allowed me a few precious seconds to try and breathe through the worst of the pain. Then, very quietly, she said, "We need to leave. Amanda. Stand up."

Yeah. Yes . . . we couldn't stay here.

Pulling weakly out of Isabelle's hold, I stumbled on my knees and reached for my satchel. My whole arm was numb. My hand clumsy as my fingers closed over the trailing strap of my bag. I pulled it towards me, dragging it over the ground and saw that I wasn't wrong. The Black Box was still inside.

Royce stood up in one swift, easy motion and tilted his head at Isabelle.

_Come on._

She nodded and without a word, took my arm to help me climb to my feet. It was hard. It was hot and sweaty and I was so weak that I could have lain down right there and fallen asleep. Exhaustion drew at my mind, weighing it.

"Thank you," I breathed, as quietly as I could. My throat burned. "Thank you for coming for me."

Isabelle nodded a small affirmative, acknowledging my gratitude but didn't make a sound.

Neither did the ripples of refracted light moving like ghosts to cut us off.

That's what we missed. The Predators – invisible – had been there the whole time.


	9. Chapter 8 - The Greater Hunter - Part 2

_***It goes without saying that The Originals and every other film, book or franchise that will be mentioned in this fanfiction belong to their respectful owners. I claim no ownership or association to any of the many "universes" that will be visited in this fanfiction.***_

**Chapter 8**

**THE GREATER HUNTER – Part 2**

* * *

"I didn't think you'd come back. But she . . . she never lost faith in you.

I guess I owe you an apology. You are a good man after all."

– **Edwin**

_Predator_ (2010)

* * *

I first saw the Predator movies when I was ten or . . . maybe eleven years old.

I stumbled onto the films completely by mistake, online. Intrigued, I ended up watching them; mesmerized by the action-sequences and the scariness of the alien monsters. It was all so exciting!

Of course, my parents made me feel guilty and ashamed for being interested in those things. As if a girl could only like pretty things and had no business enjoying sci-fi. They forbade me from going back to that movie-website.

As a form of silent protest, I instead uploaded the movies onto my phone and would watch them in secret at night once everyone had gone to sleep. I would cover my hands with my sheets to hide the glow from my phone, and was very proud of how clever I was. Not as smart as it seemed, in hindsight. Lots of kids did that. But nobody ever found out. Not even my brother knew.

How could I have known that my little bout of rebellion would eventually matter?

Those movies are why the sight of the totem we found in the jungle triggered an immediate familiarity in me. They are why I recognized the significance of those skulls, with the entire spinal column still attached at the base. A gruesome but deliberate thing. They were trophies.

My mind churned with images I would have been happier without.

The eerie infrared vision from the movies, where the picture changed to show what the Predators saw through their facemasks. The way the vision would flick from infrared, to ultraviolet to spectrums I couldn't even name but that looked really cool. The masks designed to help the Predators track and kill their prey.

Tools meant to make them into better, more efficient hunters.

These were retro movies I used to love. It was all so exciting!

But now that it was real, I would have preferred a little more quiet. I would have been happy with outright boredom.

We had no defense. Surrounded by the galaxy's most prolific killers there was nowhere for us to go. Nothing to do but shoot off a barrage of bullets and hope we hit something.

_Rat-ta-ta-tat!_

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

I ducked down, dropping to my belly. Partly from weakness but also self-preservation. I wanted the bullets flying _**over**_ my head, not straight through it. My satchel was crushed beneath me and I felt something inside squish – probably the last of my food. The hard corner of my Black Box dug into my stomach, and I had time to wonder what I would do if I broke it . . . and then _WHOOMPH!_

A bolt of blue energy cracked and the ground beside me exploded, debris flying up and out; showering Isabelle and I in dark soil and pebbles. I winced, shielding my head with my hands as best as I could.

Isabelle held her deadly black rifle with a steady grip, ready to fire but she hesitated. Eyes flicked back and forth. Searching. I understood at once what was the matter. Isabelle was a sniper. A soldier, too, but primarily a sniper. She needed a target. Isabelle wouldn't fire blindly at nothing . . . she _**needed**_ something to shoot at.

The Predators were invisible, of course. I thought we could see them whenever they moved; but only as the slightest distortion like a ripple of the air. If the creatures held still, they disappeared entirely. Their armor – or whatever it was that made them invisible – worked best when they were motionless.

"Where are they?" I shouted, pulling myself off the ground.

Isabelle didn't answer. She was down on one knee. I was down on both, shaking but strangely analytical. I must have officially gone into shock, because rather than freaking out over the hopelessness of the trap we were caught in my mind whirled for a solution with remarkable clarity. I was thinking. Not feeling.

The Predators hunted in threes, I remembered. There were always only three of them . . . and Klaus already killed one.

Two left.

We were not quite as surrounded as it seemed.

I hooked the strap of my satchel over my neck, so that the strap slanted securely across my chest in its usual position and then frowned and turned my head sharply. I scanned the trees just past the bloody totems. No wind stirred the leaves there. Nothing at all seemed to be moving in that direction and I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. We would have to escape back into the jungle. Get out of this wide-open clearing. Maybe thirty feet away, it was so close! But I didn't believe for a second that the best hunters in the galaxy would have left such a glaringly obvious escape for their prey.

They'd used me as bait, to lure the others.

They set a trap. No reason why they couldn't set another . . .

And even though the nagging sense of something being off was solved (we were sensing the Predators watching us) the feeling of wrongness did not go away. I couldn't help but think that we were _**still**_ missing something. But what else was there?

Motion!

Isabelle and I saw it at the same time. The invisible shimmer of a figure darting forward. Incredible speed! Isabelle fired. One shot. A deadly piece of lead or . . . or whatever bullets were made of . . . that erupted from the long barrel of her rifle with a single sharp _**crack**_!

I saw the impact. Saw the web of static-y crackling that spread across the invisible shape, solidifying the figure until the alien body of the Predator was fully visible. The creature roared, spreading its clawed hands menacingly. Green sunlight glinted dully off its facemask. The eyes flashed mechanical red. Isabelle's shot was perfect; striking the Predator exactly over where the heart should have been but her success meant nothing.

Glistening metal swords cracked out from slots attached to the back of the creature's arms, wickedly serrated blades. I gasped at the sight of them. Those could cut a man cleanly in half.

"Get up!" Isabelle grabbed my arm. "Get up! Go!"

I was on my feet in an instant, ready to break for the trees like I knew she wanted but the sight of Isabelle drawing a knife from its sheath in her boot made me hesitate. Not out of fear, but confusion. For just a moment I stayed where I was, mind slogging through layers of exhaustion as I struggled to understand what she intended to do. And then I did. I understood perfectly.

"No!" I shouted, throwing myself on her arm. "You can't fight them!"

Isabelle's arm dropped beneath my weight, and she spun around. Astounded by my sudden attack. Confused by it. The Predator advanced, taking advantage of her distraction. So fast!

"Come with me!" I ordered, my hands closing around her arm. I dragged her, forcing her decision and rather than struggle Isabelle obeyed. Not trusting me, necessarily, but because her chance to face the alien was over.

We stood up together, Isabelle lifting her rifle defensively towards the alien. We backed towards the trees. My eyes widened as I watched the Predator's charge. I could feel each heavy footfall booming up through the earth. Raw, primitive power. He was on us!

The Predator loomed up, immense to where it seemed to fill my entire field of vision. That smooth, scary mask eerily blank. My hand tightened around Isabelle's arm. In my mind, I imagined the freaky infrared blobs we must look like . . . or did the Predator switch to X-Ray? All the better to see through our skin and pinpoint the vital organs.

"Isabelle!" I screamed, tugging on her arm. Run. Run! Why wouldn't she move?

WHAM!

A backhand sweep slammed into my chest, lifting me clear off my feet. I flew bodily through the air to land with a bone-jarring thud in a heap on the ground. Maybe ten feet from where I'd been. A little more force would have sent me straight into a tree. Head ringing, I scrambled off the ground. Too hurt to bother paying attention to the pain anymore and gasped _"No. No."_ over and over.

Isabelle still wouldn't move. I saw her standing very still, tilting her face back to look up at the Predator looming over her. Eyes widening with what looked like confusion. As if she didn't understand that she needed to run away. That the creature would kill her. Of course it was too late now. She wouldn't get away.

"No. No. No . . ." I couldn't stop saying it. Was scarcely aware that I was.

Very slowly, Isabelle turned only her eyes. She looked at me, pain clouding her vision. _**Pain.**_ My heart thudded and all at once I realized my mistake. It wasn't confusion I thought I saw on her face. It was shock. A hard, sharp disbelief.

A bloom of blood stained the front of her army fatigues. Her long, lethal gun dangled off her shoulder, handing from a strap. Her hands didn't move for the weapon. She couldn't move at all . . .

Isabelle's entire body jerked, convulsing against some invisible force and her stomach erupted in a splash of blood and gore. With a hiss of static and light, the second Predator flickered into sight directly behind Isabelle. The long, serrated blade like the spine of a sawfish driven straight through Isabelle's body. Blood dripped off the end.

Neither of us had known the other was there. Neither of us had had a chance . . .

"No. No. No . . ." I moaned, fighting back the burn of tears. The hard lump forming in my throat.

The Predator jerked its arm, pulling on the glistening silver saw and Isabelle's body moved with the motion. Her arm twisting around, the big black army knife trapped in her grip. Fingers locked around the knife as muscles stiffened in death. With one final jerk, the Predator pulled the saw out of the dead woman to let her fall and the knife flew from her hand, landing in the mud at my feet.

I looked at the knife. Big, heavy black metal. Looked at Isabelle, lying in a widening pool of her own blood. Spanish dark eyes glassing over. The light in them dim but not gone. She was still alive . . . but only just.

_Take it,_ her eyes said to me. Weakness drawing the last of the life from them. _Take it. Run._

No. No . . . I couldn't . . . I had to.

I had to leave her. She couldn't be saved but maybe, just maybe, _**I**_ still could.

Both Predators turned towards me. Their low, clicking-growls rolling on the heavy air and that was bad enough. But with a sharp hiss they faded out of sight, returning to the subtlety of invisibility and Isabelle was dead on the ground and I was alone listening to shouts and the rap of gunfire already growing faint from distance.

Panting, my whole body slicked with sweat. I was dizzy and smelly and sick to my stomach.

I kept my eyes wide open and fixed on where the Predators were when they disappeared. Bending my knees, I quickly lowered myself but didn't dare bend down or look around. I had to feel with my hands, tapping the ground. Fingers curling in mud and leaves until they closed over the hard metal of Isabelle's knife. I picked the weapon off the ground by the sharp blade, and quickly levered myself back up to standing.

My heart: _Whoomp. Whoomp. Whoomp._

Very fast. Each pulse heavy in my chest. Blood rushing to my head, making my face feel hot. My ears buzz with every beat. Where were they? The monsters . . . where were they?

Still not looking, eyes wide open scanning the gruesome clearing overgrown with blood-splattered plants and totems and macabre trophies, I turned Isabelle's knife around in my hands. Clasping the hilt securely in my fist. I kept the knife carefully down by my sides, some sense warning me not to offer anything that might be mistaken for a challenge to these creatures.

I backed out of the clearing, testing every step before trusting my weight to it. Walking backwards, afraid to trip or fall down. My satchel bumped against my hip, and the solid weight of the Box inside jarred my nerves.

It was so quiet, now. The wind died down to where not even a whisper stirred the air. The leaves hung motionless, acting like a buffer. Swallowing sounds so that the only noise seemed to come from me. The harsh rasp of my own breaths sawing in my throat. Hot air filling my lungs with humidity like steam and I was just so sick of being afraid and lost and without even having to looking at her I was aware of Isabelle's body and her large, dark eyes staring sightlessly towards me.

And the Predators. Invisible. Stalking me.

I knew they were there. I _**didn't**_ know what they were waiting for.

I kept backing away. I backed right into the shelter of the trees. Ancient trees, they were huge with trunks so wide we could have hidden a car inside one. Creepers and vines crawling up into the canopy of trees, but also over the ground like a web laid down by some immense alien spider. Ferns and other plants grew lush nearer the ground – those that required less light than the immense trees. They had wide, dark leaves that felt wavy and dry against my sweaty skin.

But no bugs. No evidence of any sort of life, beyond the occasional crack of gunfire and human shout so faint now that I couldn't tell if I were really hearing them, or if they were only echoes. My brain conjuring up sounds to fill the emptiness.

I ran.

I raced through the trees, feeling the leathery slap of leaves against my face and the eyes of the Predators drilling holes in my back. I knew – I _**knew**_ – they were following me. But there was nothing I could do about that so I ran . . . I ran so hard that I didn't even see the cliff until a hand shot out, snagging the back of my shirt to keep me from plunging over the side.

I shouted and struck with my fists, hitting and biting without any hesitation at all. If they wanted to kill me, I wouldn't just _**let**_ it happen.

"Hey! Stop, Christ. Stop! Enough."

Voice. Words. Words I understood penetrated the wall of delirious terror shooting like acid through my blood. I was panting, wild with panic but a measure of sanity returned and I stopped struggling. The man who held my arms, hands hot and just as sticky with sweat as my own, was human. Someone I recognized from our group. The Doctor. What was his name? Eddy. Edward . . .?

"Edwin," I gasped. That was it. Edwin.

"You look like shit," he muttered, holding me at arm's length and giving me a once over. I almost burst out laughing at the ludicrousness of that statement. We were running for our lives from a duo of alien monsters. Who cares what I looked like?

Speaking of . . . I glanced quickly over his shoulder, futilely scanning the green jungle for any hint that the Predators were there. I saw nothing. And that meant nothing. They were invisible.

Shaking and horribly out of breath, I managed a quiet, "Is Klaus with you?"

"Who?" the doctor asked, squinting at me through his glasses.

"Klaus," I said again. It hurt to talk. My lungs were on fire, my mouth gummy from dehydration. Eyes crossing from the lightheaded dizziness that seemed to tilt the whole world. "Klaus. Tall guy. _**Klaus.**_ Where is he?"

"He . . . died, kiddo," Edwin said. He looked at me like he thought I was confused. Not knowing what I was saying and I realized that of course, he wouldn't know Klaus was still alive. They all saw him impaled to a tree, a river of blood slicking the trunk. Skin ashen in death. None of them knew . . .

I swallowed hard.

"I need . . . I need . . ." I needed things I couldn't say out loud. I needed to find Klaus. I needed to find him quickly. I wasn't sure why I still cared. He hadn't come for me, when I was captured. He'd left me tied to a totem. There was no evidence of the Original Hybrid anywhere. As far as I knew, he could be miles away exploring the other end of the valley having completely forgotten about me.

I pulled out of Edwin's hands. He let me go. A stiff wind slammed into both of us, howling up from the cliff. I moved closer to the ledge, looking over the side to the wide gray lake at the bottom. My feet kicked pebbles off side as I edged closer and the little stones clacked off the cliff face on their way down. Another breeze flew up from below. An updraft.

From behind, Edwin said, "Where'd you get the knife?"

Knife? I lifted my right hand, honestly surprised to find Isabelle's military knife still firmly in my grip. I was holding onto it so tightly that my fingers were aching. I glanced at Edwin. "I found it."

I found it. On the ground. Where Isabelle threw it at my feet, with the last of her strength just moments before she died. I closed my eyes and turned away, preferring to look off the ledge of a brutally steep cliff than have to tell the doctor what really happened.

"Come on," Edwin said, after a few seconds. "We need to catch up with the others."

"Where are they?"

"Close," he said.

I didn't move. The water down below was gray and inviting. It looked cold. I wondered what would happen if I jumped. Could I survive the fall? Or were we too high?

"Let's go," Edwin said, more forcefully. He took my arm and tugged.

I turned my head. "W-what?"

He didn't let go of my arm and for the first time, it occurred to me to wonder what he was doing by himself out here. The skinny city doctor didn't strike me as someone who would just head off on his own. I looked at where he held me, hard fingers curled around my lower arm. The smooth skin of his hands, white knuckles. Lifted my eyes to meet his gaze and a tremor raised the little hairs on the back of my neck.

Narrowing my eyes, I gave a hard tug indicating I wanted him to release me. Edwin didn't budge.

After the Predators, I shouldn't have been scared by just a man but I was. I tugged again. He yanked me back.

"Let go of me." I lifted Isabelle's knife in warning and Edwin smiled. It was a dreamy sort of smile, very light. Nonthreatening and all that much more frightening for it. "I mean it. I'll cut you!"

He called me on that, tightening his hold on my arm and moving very quickly forward towards me. I gasped and stumbled backwards, aware of the edge of the cliff right at my back. The almost-suction effect of the updraft threatening to pull me right off me feet. My mind spun furiously, thoughts tumbling over each other. A bunch of noise without any real direction. I started to struggle again, mindlessly fighting against him.

Was he . . . no, he couldn't actually mean to throw me off the cliff.

He was pushing me. Shoving. Forcing me to back up.

The wind howled strongly, the breeze swirling around us. Up under my shirt. Whipping my hair, stinging in my eyes. Slapping my cheeks and neck.

"Stop!" I screamed. I kicked, trying to knock Edwin's feet out from under him. Get the upper hand. "Stop! Let go of me. Let go!"

And he did.

In a blink, Edwin's hands were gone. The solid weight of his body no longer pressing against mine, and it happened so fast that I pitched forward – still pressing back against his suddenly absent force – and hit the ground so hard it jarred my whole body, aching in every bruise and strained muscle I'd accumulated since getting to this world.

"Now that wasn't very nice," a dark voice said, very genial. Almost friendly. I craned my neck to look up and saw Edwin – skinny, scrawny human with glasses hanging precariously off one ear – standing on his toes to keep from cracking his spine on the hand clamped around the back of his neck. He was breathing hard. Hands reaching back to loosen a grip I knew was immovable.

He could have moved a mountain easier than overpower the man who held him.

"Klaus," I breathed in disbelief.

The Original Hybrid didn't even spare me a glance. His eyes shone a brilliant amber-gold and pressed his mouth to Edwin's ear. Speaking very quietly, he added, "Last words?"

Edwin opened his mouth, "I w –"

Sharp snarl and Klaus' head came down. He tore into the man's throat with a savage ferocity that . . . didn't really do anything to me. I climbed shakily to my feet, not daring to take my eyes off the scene. A wash of crimson blood spilled over the front of Edwin's shirt. Eyes bulging in pain and terror, Edwin seemed unable to move through it. He didn't put up any sort of fight and it was over so, so quickly.

With a sigh, Klaus let Edwin's body slide to the ground.

A cold crack of static rippled faintly.

From the trees, faintly, the clicking-growl of the Predators.

Klaus' mouth was smeared with blood. Crimson dripped off his chin. I met his gaze, our eyes locking across such a short distance and I watched as they shifted back to their lovely smoky blue. Another very slight, very dangerous rolling click. Klaus turned towards the trees, prepared to fight the aliens who were coming. A thrill of anticipation so sharp I felt it too.

A cold energy swelled suddenly and something like an electrical charge passed through my body.

"Klaus!" I cried before he vanished in a burst of supernatural speed. "Take my hand."

He spun, surprise dancing over his expression. Not understanding my admittedly bizarre request.

"It's happening," I shouted. Excited. Relieved. "Right now. Klaus, it's happening right now. We're leaving!"

My words registered and I flung my arm forward, holding my hand palm-up. Inviting him to take it.

Deadly red eyes flashed behind him, right over his shoulder. The Predators materialized. One. Two. Both of them. Huge. Bigger than Klaus. Bigger than anyone. They were like bears! Broad shoulders and amazing strength.

I gaped, my mouth falling open as one raised a glistening silver scythe high into the air bringing it down in a brutal arc that whistled as it sliced the air.

A strong hand closed over mine, nearly crushing my fingers. I held on tightly.

Hellish cold closed around us, and I felt the implosion as my body collapsed and we were spirited away to some other world . . .


	10. Chapter 9 - Alone

_***It goes without saying that The Originals and every other film, book or franchise that will be mentioned in this fanfiction belong to their respectful owners. I claim no ownership or association to any of the many "universes" that will be visited in this fanfiction.***_

**A QUICK WORD FROM DAYSTORM:**_ Hey, all! :) Just a quick note to let people know this is an "immersion" chapter. It's meant for realism/linear storytelling as opposed to actual plot-telling. I might write another such chapter later on (or not, if there's no need) but because we're still at the very start of my fanfic I feel that this chapter is necessary._

_Think about it. Amanda hasn't had a chance to rest – never mind sleep – since __**before**__ meeting Klaus. Also, this chapter will give her the opportunity to come down from the adrenalin-high of the Predators world – instead of me just dumping her straight into a new adventure right away . . . and it'll give me a chance to show what one of my own AUs will look like._

_Easiest way to tell where K and A are is to look at the quote. I use it to identify the world; like when they were in Predators I stuck to quotes **from** Predators. But for my own worlds, I place generic quotes._

_Hope you all enjoy this chapter, even if it is a little quieter than what came before. I promise Chapter 10 will more adventurous! haha_

_Best,_

_DayStorm_

**Chapter 9**

**ALONE**

* * *

"Outside of a dog, a book is a man's best friend.

Inside of a dog it's too dark to read."

– **Groucho Marx**

* * *

It was quiet.

Calm.

Klaus and I were standing on a street corner. Neat, suburban homes with square lawns. Some had flowerbeds, with dark store-bought soil and decorative bricks. Cars and vans parked in paved driveways. Trees grew lush and summer green in the buttery sunlight. The wind smelled sweet. Like cut grass. The freshness of water, from the sprinkler hissing in the yard across the street leaving a wide dark spot on the sidewalk.

I took a deep breath, forcing air past the tightness in my chest. This was . . . this was the hardest part of jumping in-and-out of worlds. Leaving it all behind. The horror and adrenaline of having so narrowly escaped my own death was over. It was done. Whatever terrors were after us _**could not follow**_. We were safe. But my brain needed more time to catch up with the reality of the situation. We were not in danger anymore. From one second to the next, everything was different.

And in those first few seconds in a new world, a whole new universe my mind went in a direction I wished it wouldn't. _Oh, Isabelle. I'm so sorry!_

I left her. Guilt and pain stung sharply, needling inside my chest. There was nothing I could have done to save her but the guilt slammed into me anyway. I couldn't help her; I would have only died with her. Running . . . running away was the only choice.

I remembered the awful splash of crimson-black blood. The shine of a Predator's javelin spearing through Isabelle's chest. The look of total disbelief crossing her expression. Not even any pain, just that bewilderment as the light left her eyes. She died right in front of me. I wasn't used to violence – and the sudden, bloody brutality was shocking to me.

But not to him.

_**Klaus**_.

Edwin's blood still smeared his face, a few droplets staining his shirtfront from where it dripped off his chin. Seeing Klaus clamp his mouth over the man's throat, Edwin's strangled gasp of pain and the quick wash of blood . . . and knowing that Klaus was drinking it. Taking these huge, heavy pulls as he fed off the man . . .

My stomach clenched and I looked away.

I knew what he was. Vampire. Werewolf. He fed on blood and now that I had a moment to think about it, it occurred to me that he must have been starving after the copious amount he lost being impaled and pinned to that tree. He'd "died" for a while, after all. He needed fresh blood. And feeding from the man who tried to shove me off a cliff seemed as good an option as any.

But where I hadn't cared in the moment it was happening – too numb to give a damn – I wasn't too sure what to think of it, now. Not okay with him just killing a man, but nowhere near as horrified by the act as I should have been.

Isabelle's knife was still clenched in my fist. My hand closed around the blade so tightly they might have been fused together. It took a deliberate effort just to loosen my hold a little and my fingers ached when I did.

"Where are we?" Klaus asked me, his voice sudden and hard in the peaceful quiet of the street.

"How should I know?" I said weakly.

"You knew where we were before this," he said.

Well, yeah, but not ten-seconds in. Swallowing hard, still dehydrated to where it felt like my head was floating I took another look around. Paying closer attention this time.

It was warm. Summertime heat. Summertime smells. Over the sweetness of the grass and the sprinkler, I caught the more acrid odor of a charcoal barbeque and grilling meats. Hot dogs. A breeze gusted down the street, swirling a fine layer of sand over the asphalt. Birds chirruped from the trees, and the shushing of leaves.

I turned around; looking at the wide yard of the house we stood in front of. A bright pink kiddy pool with little fish painted on the bottom. The pool was filled with a few inches of clean, clear water that sparkled in the bright sunlight.

We were alone.

There wasn't a soul in sight. What might have been the height of the summer holidays, on a street that should have been bustling with kids playing and there was no one around. The silence was deafening.

"Klaus?" I whispered.

"Hmmm?"

"Are we alone?"

He was quiet for a second, listening intently. The wind picked up. The barbeque smell growing smoky. He said. "There's no one here."

Okay. Yeah. Okay, new universe. Deal with it.

I stepped off the sidewalk. Moved into the street. Strange to stand and stop in the middle of the road, but it was safe enough. No cars. I made a slow turn, looking around for a clue as to what might have happened. But everything looked perfectly normal. Klaus was a black dot in his dark leather and denim against a backdrop of sunny suburbia. _**He**_ didn't belong. All the blood smearing his face wasn't helping, either.

I sighed. "Klaus, you can at least wipe your mouth."

He snorted, amused and surprised by my totally unexpected quip. I moved back off of the street and shook my hair out. I was sweaty and filthy and in desperate need of a little water. Klaus was watching me, but I was looking at the house with the pink kiddy pool. "Might as well have a look around, while it's quiet."

"You think you're in charge, now?" Klaus said, swaggering a little. "Because you have your little cube?"

"No," I responded tiredly. Sighed again. "Hell, Klaus. Go do whatever you want. I'm going inside."

I meant it, too. I was in no mood to fight with him. And the big house looked so comfortable and inviting, especially after the sticky humid jungle we just escaped. I bet they had a bed. A nice big one with fresh sheets and fluffy pillows.

Klaus was only a dark blur out of my peripheral vision. He grabbed my arm, holding me tightly. I froze, heart thumping but he only said, "How long are we here?"

Oh. I swallowed. The countdown.

Swinging my leather satchel around to the front, not unhooking it from around my neck but bringing it to where I could reach inside I pulled out the Black Box and pressed both hands on either side. That eerie, void-black erupted with a spray of stars and within those points of little lights a number floated up. Four hours. We would be trapped here for four hours and then . . . and then I didn't know.

I had no way of knowing where we would land, next, so I planned to take full-advantage of the quiet of this world even if that peace was the result of something sinister.

* * *

I lay my hand on the cover of the little paperback book folded open on the bedside table. I was in the master bedroom, on the second floor of the big house. The master bed is where I ended up after a brief but revealing walkthrough. Everything inside this house was neat and ordered – a Martha Steward home, my mom would have called it.

It was the sort of home where the drapes matched the rug, and every piece of furniture was showroom perfect. Where everything was so clean and new that you didn't want to sit on the chairs or touch the walls in case you sullied them. A lot like being in a museum. Look; don't touch.

There was _**some**_ evidence that this home was lived in, though, and it humanized the magazine-cover perfection of the rooms. A child's toy on the glass coffee table in the living room. Shoes left on the mat just inside the front door. Coats in the entry closet. In the kitchen there was large plastic bowl of salad sitting on the immaculate granite counter. The lettuce wilted from too long in the warm, but the tomatoes and cucumbers and spirals of red onion still looked fresh.

The sight of that salad only unsettled me.

Two colorful plastic salad forks were placed next to the bowl. Napkins half removed from the bag they came in. Whatever happened in this world to make every human being just . . . disappear . . . must have very sudden. Very recent, too. Whatever happened here, Klaus and I only just missed it.

While I was there, I ransacked the kitchen looking for non-perishable foodstuffs that weighed very little. Stuff I could take with me. A box of granola bars, and packets of ready-made rice I took. But heavier things like cans and jars were ignored. There were lots to choose from, and a jar of homemade strawberry preserves made my mouth water, but I had to remember that I would need to carry all this. And when you're on the move, food in jars and cans isn't practical. It was too heavy.

And I only had one satchel . . .

I showered in the master bathroom, removing all the filth from my hair and skin. Scrubbing myself down with the flowery soaps that were there. I let the warm shower-spray rain down on my upturned face and prepared for a good cry – I needed to cry – but the tears wouldn't come. The heaviness in my chest, of grief and sadness, found no release.

Klaus was still outside when I came out, wandering up and down the street. He saw me watching him from the big front window and paused a moment to look straight back at me.

"Don't go too far," I cautioned, very quietly. Sure he could hear me. "We leave in four hours. Might want to stick around."

What I meant to say was '_don't take off_' but I felt he would ignore that one. Might even leave on principle, just because I said not to.

Klaus didn't bother with any sort of acknowledgement. He turned away.

So did I.

I returned to the master bedroom, lay my leather satchel on the mattress beside me and slipped under the covers. The sheets smelled clean, and they were heavy enough to feel wonderful.

That's not to say I was necessarily comfortable here. But I'd been running on raw adrenaline for hours, leading to the inevitable crash. Exhaustion turned my body to lead and if I didn't rest I was going to drop. But as I lay there, staring at the soft green and cream wallpaper and the warm summer breeze whispering through the opened window, carrying with it the sleepy hum of grasshoppers in the yard. A harmonious buzz that lulled. I couldn't shake the unsettling sensation that.

* * *

This world was officially creepy.

Absence of people aside, there seemed to be a strange hollowness here. Sounds didn't echo the way I thought they should, and there were shadows where shadows had no business being.

I came downstairs prepared to go out and search for Klaus – sure he'd gone off again – but to my immense surprise I found him kicking back on the deck outside like a man without a care. As if he had nothing else to do but enjoy the quiet evening. He even had a bottle on the rail beside him, condensation trickling down the thick brown glass.

Klaus must have raided the fridge for a beer.

Figures.

I grabbed a can of soda, icy cool against my skin and went out to join him. Klaus gave no indication that he was aware I even existed, let alone that I was just sat down an arm's length away. I cracked the top on my soda and it hissed, fizzing little carbonated bubbles.

"You can't ignore me forever," I said to him.

"I can try," Klaus responded. He took a swig from his longneck bottle, causing the beer to foam a little.

"And how's that going to work?" I demanded, piqued. "We're in this together."

Nothing.

His eyes seemed to gleam in the bright but lowering sunlight. The sun was sinking, though the sky was still the deep blue of a lovely summer day. The color deepening with the encroaching dusk. A few faint speckles of stars only just starting to show.

But Klaus's eyes; a smoky bluish-gray very similar to my own, they somehow seemed more brilliant. I stared straight into them, momentarily distracted and searched for the telltale golden lights which would explain his quiet intensity but there was none.

No Hybrid glow.

A slow, knowing smirk touched at the corner's of Klaus' mouth. I clutched my can of soda closer, as if that was some sort of defense. But he only just said, "You need me. More than I need you, love."

I bristled. "Like hell, you were useless in Predators."

Klaus nailed me with a look that could have cut steel. "Who do you think lured the creatures away from your troupe of misfits? You have more to thank me for than I'm being given credit."

I _**had**_ wondered. Why the Predators were hunting us but it took so, so long for them to even make themselves known.

"They were chasing you . . ."

"It was me they wanted," Klaus said. He leaned back in his chair, holding the beer loosely between his legs. He wasn't quite as relaxed as he first appeared, or half as calm and he wanted me to think. There was still no gold in his eyes, but that coloring might have only been him trying to scare me before. His eyes didn't turn with his mood.

Oh.

Klaus was still talking, not giving me a chance to press him for more: "You said it yourself. They're hunters seeking the ultimate prey. What better trophy, then, than the one they failed to kill?"

They were watching us. The entire time. I knew that already, had figured it out for myself but there was something particularly unsettling with knowing they'd seen Klaus come back to life. I couldn't imagine what they must have made from that. For all intents and purposes, Klaus was dead and they would have recognized that.

He just had the audacity not to stay that way.

On the heels of that thought, I had another. And the next one turned my insides to ice. Pieces that should have been so obvious, finally falling into place. The Predators saw me stick with Klaus, where the others gave him up for dead. It was almost as if . . . as if I already knew he would come back. And that is why they took me.

"They were trying to lure you," I said, eyes widening. "They were trying to draw you into . . . what, a trap?"

Klaus gave a self-satisfied smirk and took another swig from his bottle.

"It didn't work."

"No, it really didn't," he agreed.

Might have if Klaus gave a damn about me. But he couldn't have cared less that I was tied to a bloody, gory totem. I closed my eyes, trembling at the awful memory. What made it worse is that it wasn't a far away memory. This happened . . . only a couple hours ago. And a part of me was still _**there**_.

This really, truly was the hardest part of leaping between universes. Adapting. To switch off whatever horror came before and move on. Because from one second to the next, everything changed. There were no Predators in this universe. There might be other threats, but with my mind still where it was . . . it left me hyperaware. Also confused.

"It doesn't matter," I said. Cleared my throat. "It doesn't matter that you didn't come for me. I get it. You saw the trap."

Klaus set his bottled down on the table, his gaze sharpening at those words. "It matters. And you've chosen to pretend it doesn't. You know what I think? I think you need me. Far more than I will ever need you, love. This might come as a bit of a surprise, but I'm not a particularly selfless person."

I nodded slowly, to show I understood what he was saying.

I wanted to deny what he said, but I couldn't. And that stung.

"I do need you," I admitted, and Klaus blinked surprised by my easy capitulation. Before he could voice a response, I reached into my bag and pulled the Black Box from the bottom. Placed it smack on the table in between us. A colorless block of nothing. Void. Scary to look at. Scary to hold. Terrifying if I lost it.

My own personal ball-and-chain.

"I never meant to take you with me," I told him. "It was an accident and I'm sorry, Klaus, you have no idea. But I can't change that. There is nothing I can do to take it back. Don't you get it? We're in this together. All we have is each other."

Klaus' answering smile was like a shark's. All teeth, no humor. "You're saying I'm trapped, Amanda? You might really want to rethink that assessment."

I sighed. He still didn't understand what I was trying to get through to him. "I can't make you do anything, Klaus. But you are stuck, just as surely as I am. Jumping from universe to universe, making the best that I can with the time allotted to each one, at the mercy of the Black Box's clock."

He leaned forward, there, gold bleeding menacingly into the blue of his eyes. Highlighting the color to spectacular effect.

"I'm at the mercy of nothing," he sneered "and no one. Certainly not to you or that blasted magic box you carry."

"Sure you are," I said, aware I might have been digging my own grave by pushing him but what I said next was truth. And he needed to hear it. "I'll die one day, but you? You don't have my escape. How are you going to get home, Klaus? Huh. Tell me. You can't just jump on a plane and charter a flight back. We are separated from our homes – our families – by some insurmountable . . . something. These worlds are literally Alternate Universes and the only way to travel between them is through the Black Box. _**It**_ controls where we go. We're like the tail on a kite, being dragged helplessly along."

The silence following my words was deafening. It occurred to me that Klaus had let me go on, talking without a single interruption. And that seemed very, very dangerous. I could feel the tension between us like a crack of thunder. I took a deep breath, for courage.

The evening air was cooling quickly as the sun sank beneath the horizon. Stars winked icily in the deep indigo and violet sky. Shadows lengthened, fingers sliding over the grass. Creepily solid in the darkness. I shivered and turned back to Klaus, more comfortable with the frustrated Original Hybrid than with those out-of-place shadows.

"There's always a way," Klaus bit out. "Nothing is insurmountable, little girl."

"Sure," I agreed. "There's a way, alright. There's a chance we might eventually find ourselves returned to our home-universe. There's a chance we might see our families again. But that won't ever happen if we don't keep going. We have to stay together."

The cool evening wind very suddenly grew bitterly cold; stinging like ice against my skin. I glanced at the Box sitting on the table between us. There were stars blooming in little spurts from its centre. Without a word, I lay my hand flat against the top of the cube and the hard surface hummed beneath my fingers. Familiar to me, and somewhat reassuring because of it.

I met Klaus' eyes.

He was furious. But I thought he understood more that he'd been letting on. _He got it_, I realized. He only wanted to see if I would lie to him. I'd been tested without having any idea and the fierceness in his blue eyes confirmed it: he was staying.

The icy whirl of energy, of cosmic powers colliding all around us pulled and drew me forward. Inward. The last thing I felt before being sucked into the vacuum was Klaus's warm hand pressing into mine and the terrible shock of two bodies compressing.


	11. Chapter 10 - A Ribbon of Cold

_***It goes without saying that The Originals and every other film, book or franchise that will be mentioned in this fanfiction belong to their respectful owners. I claim no ownership or association to any of the many "universes" that will be visited in this fanfiction.***_

**Chapter 10**

**A RIBBON OF COLD**

* * *

"I heard your name once before, Desmond, a long time ago.

And now it lingers in my mind like an image from an old dream.

I do not know where you are, or by what means you can hear me.

But I know you are listening."

– **Ezio Auditore Da Firenze**

_Assassin's Creed: Revelation,_ (2011)

* * *

The wind whistled coolly, running chill fingers across the back of my neck. I shivered and eyed the surrounding darkness. Thick shadows that breathed secret life into the night; I was never afraid of the dark but there was an edge to this silence. A hint of menace in the slowly swirling fog.

People disappeared on nights like this.

I quickened my step, shoes clicking on the brick path like I was some victim in an old movie. The woman in a large fur coat and heels, pacing down a deserted street at midnight. I flipped up the lapels of my jacket to keep some of the damp chill off my neck, and shivered. My pursuer was closing in. Like a phantom, I would never see him coming.

Only, I had an advantage over the woman in heels from those old movies.

I was not alone. And I wasn't helpless.

Isabelle's heavy combat knife fit too easily in my hand. The weight comforting because it was solid. More than something to hold on to, it seemed to ground me. I wasn't afraid. I clasped the knife closer; careful not to give away that I had a weapon and stopped by a low canal. My shoes scuffed the sand-bricks paving the narrow street – only slightly wider here where there was space between the water and the multitude of shops set up to service incoming sailors.

The city opened into a sea only a short way down, and the smell of fish and salt was at once familiar and exotic. I'd never been to the ocean before, and I would have liked to keep going. Follow the winding canal all the way to the wharfs and the immense merchant ships that were there. Lanterns were affixed to tall poles, lending just enough twinkling light to make them look like stars. There were people down there too. Even as late as it was, I could make out the bodies of people moving in and out of the light. Motion on the decks of ships. Some shops – maybe taverns or brothels – with shining windows.

It was tempting to head in that direction. The false security of losing myself in a crowd.

Instead, I turned away from the light and moved deeper into the shadows.

Daring my pursuer to take me.

Stones clattered sharply, pebbles kicked up and I stilled. Glanced uneasily down a narrow passage between two towering, indefinable buildings. The darkness so thick my eyes couldn't hope to pierce it. A chorus of drunken laughter and the shuffle of unsteady feet made me relax. I released the breath I hadn't notice I was holding.

A stiff breeze reeking of fish, saltwater and garbage whirled down the street whistling through the cracks in walls and slammed into my body with enough force to make me sway a little. It was too dark to keep this up, and my confidence wavered as the feeling of isolation deepened.

I kept walking, following the canal only because it was there.

My pursuer was closer now. I still saw/heard/smelled nothing but it was in the way my hair prickled. The burn between my shoulders. I was being watched. It was coming. Not long now.

My own feet kicked up scattered pebbles. I stopped walking, finally happy with the spot on the street. The canal on my right; with water dark as ink. Wide swaths of cloud passed before the moon, their edges cut with silver.

Warmth prickled against the back of my hand, little droplets of moisture like sea spray. Too small to be rain. Too hot to be water. I looked at the tiny splatter of crimson against the milky paleness of my skin, and then turned my gaze on the man who never stood a chance . . . if only he knew that.

My pursuer was there, right beside me and I'd heard nothing. No evidence of his approach. His thick wool hood pulled low over his eyes, so that I couldn't see his expression. Only a thick stubble like carpet on his chin, not heavy enough to be called a beard.

The sight of him so close to me was startling but I wasn't scared.

"Don't look so surprised, love," Klaus said having appeared just as suddenly as the other man. He tilted a pleasant smile so at odds with the savagery of what was happening. "I said I would protect you."

I couldn't see it, but Klaus's fist punched straight through the ribcage of the man in the hooded cloak. Blood slid slowly down his legs, over his scuffed boots to pool at his feet. And he wasn't moving. A low, reluctant grunt escaped his throat like a breath of air. The only evidence that he was in terrible pain.

"My hero," I crooned, resisting the urge to slap my hands together and flutter my eyelashes in mock-adoration.

Klaus snickered.

* * *

_**One day previous . . .**_

It was hot but not sweltering when we landed in this world. A stiff, cooling wind rolled in from the glistening blue sea to the south and with it came the boisterousness of the docks, of men shouting and the clang of bells. The creak of wood and this deep, hollow groan as the massive ships coasted into the bay. We appeared in the middle of a crowd so large and busy that nobody even noticed our very sudden appearance.

Klaus immediately stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans, grinning as he looked eagerly around. _**This**_ place was interesting.

I had to agree.

We were in some kind of open market just off from the docks where ships were unloading their wares. Huge rolls of fabric and silks. Carpets. Crates and boxes I couldn't even guess at but that looked heavy. Casks of what I imagined might be wine. Perfumes and candles and exotic birds. Gold. Gems.

People everywhere! Shouting and talking and laughing, walking and running.

It was too much, too big, too loud. And I _**loved**_ it.

I looked up at the rest of city and immediately knew that what I could see was not a fraction of what there was. I felt dizzy, overwhelmed by the sheer grandeur of this place. I saw buildings of all sorts. Houses. Apartments. Small shops and businesses. Taverns, brothels and inns. Most constructed from sand-colored brick but others . . . temples or possibly churches with domed roofs that sparkled brilliant gold in the hot sunshine. Towers. What might have been immense libraries.

Mountains peeking up over the horizon, blue and purple with distance.

"Constantinople," Klaus said to me, following my gaze. "I've been here before."

"You've been everywhere," I muttered.

Constantinople. The name was familiar, but I couldn't place it.

Klaus crossed his arms. Added, "Also known as Istanbul."

Oh. I blinked. Oh!

We were in Turkey.

"Not modern day, though," I remarked. "Look around."

There was no evidence that electricity had even been discovered, yet.

No planes or any other man-made thing in the air. As far as I could tell, the sky belonged to the birds. Brown . . . what I assumed were gulls. Buzzards. Magpies. No people up there. The huge ships moving slowly across the water with sails so big I could have draped them over a house, were like nothing I would have seen in my own time. These were ships like those I would find in the glossy pages of a history textbook.

It was then that I noticed the women. I'd seen them, of course, walking in little groups or standing or sitting around the busy street. But I hadn't paid attention to how they were dressed until right that second. Each and every one had her hair covered, and was draped in lovely but deliberate robes that covered her body and face.

Rather than get all outraged, the modern in me voicing strong opinions, spotting those women had the complete opposite effect.

I very quickly went from fine, to feeling exposed and uncomfortable. My long blond hair glaringly obvious in the daylight. My soft cotton top too revealing and my jeans like they hugged my legs too snugly. Back home, my clothes would have been perfectly decent. I could have worn this to school. But here, they made me feel like I was showing too much.

I wanted to duck behind Klaus and hide.

Flushing, embarrassed, I pulled my windbreak from my satchel and shrugged it on. Zipped it and flipped the hood up to hide my hair, while carefully tucking the strands back. Out of sight.

"You look ridiculous," Klaus remarked.

I ignored that. Short of stealing some woman's laundry, this was the best I could do. Not for the first time, I hated the mouse in me. The girl who was so happy to hide, to keep her eyes down and not draw attention to where being out like this – different from all the other girls – was so hard I wanted to cry.

_That's right, Amanda. Disappear. Don't let them see you. Don't make waves._

I hated my little inner voice. I just wished I knew how to silence it. Klaus might think I looked stupid, but the least I could so is cover up a little better. No matter, he'd already lost interest in me. Klaus scanned the bustling street again, making no move to get out of people's way and was earning a few irritated mutters from passers-by.

"So," he said, casting a speculative glanced my way. "What are we doing?"

"You're asking _**me**_?" I demanded. "Jeez, I dunno. I usually just go with it."

Not so easy to do though, when there was no clear objective. Run from monsters. Hide from the deadly lightning. Sit down on a ten-by-ten spit of rock and try not to fall into the ocean. Find food. Water. But this was the first time I landed in a place that seemed perfectly normal. Not home, for sure, but really just a city full of people going about its business. And we were going to be here for a whole day . . . I shrugged. Could be worse.

Klaus made up his mind for the both of us. Without any warning, or even checking to see if I would follow he stated walking. Just like that. I darted after him, startled by his quick start and latched onto his side. Keeping one hand carefully over my satchel while subtly checking to make sure the Black Box was still in there. Not that I really thought it wasn't, but it was becoming OCD. I just needed to _**make sure**_.

"Where are we going?" I asked, panting a little. Hot all wrapped up in my coat, and still worn out from Predators even though I got to sleep a while. I was feeling a little out of breathe.

"Why are you asking _**me**_?" Delivered easily, but definitely a stab at how I'd answered him before. I shot Klaus a tilted glance, checking to see if I'd pissed him off but he seemed fine. Blue eyes scanning the crowd with the same restless intensity I'd come to accept as normal for him. Humor, then? Was the terrifying bloodthirsty hybrid kidding with me?

Maybe not. I wouldn't go so far as to say that.

"I'm asking you," I said "because you've been here before. Figured you know where we're going."

So there.

"You hungry?" he asked.

"No."

"Tired?"

Yeah.

"No."

Liar.

Klaus drawled, "Then we're going south-east, Amanda."

I blinked. Tilted my head back to look at the sky, white clouds like bits of fluff and the blinding spot of light that was the sun. He was being smart with me. We were going south-east. Oh, so funny. I glared at Klaus, catching his little smirk.

The noise increased the closer we got to the wharf – the bustle of activity turning to controlled chaos and I edged closer to the dark, solid form by my side. I wouldn't want to lose him in this crowd and Klaus wasn't afraid of anything, which incidentally helped to bolster my courage. My confidence at least. I did feel safer with him around and, though I wouldn't have said it to his face, I was suddenly glad he got pulled into this with me. I didn't want to think of how hard this would be if I was alone.

I couldn't believe how well I managed by myself, before landing in his world.

The heavy wooden planks of the docks were sturdy beneath our shoes. They didn't sway or tilt with the current, like the small dock at my parents' Lake House did. I thought Klaus might have been leading me towards the huge ships, but rather than move out across the water he only followed the outer edge of the docks where we didn't look so unusual mingling with other foreigners visiting the city. And kept heading south-east . . . though more east now, given that we'd end up in the sea if we went any further south. The smell of fish, here, was horrendous. Shiny silver and brown bodies lay on tables, their stomachs split open and insides removed. Or spread on drying racks in the full glare of the sun, and the buzz of flies and the smell so heavy it seemed to catch in my throat.

"Why are we here?" Klaus demanded, suddenly, with a hard edge that cut right through the deafening cacophony of noise. "You're Cube drops us in the middle of fifteenth century Constantinople with twenty five hours on the clock. What's the point?"

"Oh, for chrissake, Klaus," I muttered.

He hissed. I winced. Of course he'd head that.

I sighed and tilted my face back to look at him from inside my hood. "There is no point. I don't think there ever was. The Box comes and goes and we're just tagging along. We're here in Constan . . . Constantine . . . Co . . . Istanbul . . . we're here just because. There's no great purpose. So maybe you can find a room or something. I don't have any money . . ."

"We don't need any money," he said, giving me a quick golden-eyed flash.

Right. Of course. Compulsion could get us whatever he wanted. Well, wasn't that convenient.

"No point, no purpose," Klaus continued, musingly. "Absolutely nothing to do and twenty five hours with which to do it in."

A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face. My heart sank.

"What?"

He abruptly changed direction, turning towards the city. I hurried after him, scrambling up a slight embankment.

"Klaus! What?"

"I have been here before," he reminded me. "And if _**this**_ Constantinople is anything like the one I know, there should be a discrete little place just off from . . . ah! There it is!"

He quickened his stride, forcing me to speed up or get left behind. My mind lingered on the word _'discrete'_ wondering what that was supposed to mean when a cool ribbon slid smoothly across the front of my throat. I stopped moving, confused as to what just happened. A heaviness seemed to settle in my chest and, eyes fixed forward, I saw Klaus spin around in a burst of vampire speed. His nostrils flared, picking at a scent.

Blood filled my mouth as my legs gave out from under me.

My last awareness was of a warm breath fanning my ear, and the heavy Italian voice whispering inside my head: _"Traditore."_

My throat . . . my throat was cut.


	12. Chapter 11 - To Die and Survive It

_***It goes without saying that The Originals and every other film, book or franchise that will be mentioned in this fanfiction belong to their respectful owners. I claim no ownership or association to any of the many "universes" that will be visited in this fanfiction.***_

**Chapter 11**

**TO DIE AND SURVIVE IT**

* * *

"Could it be that you are every bit as deadly as the legends say?

Or am I in charge of an army of drunks swinging sticks?"

– **Leandros**

_Assassin's Creed: Revelation,_ (2011)

* * *

I touched my fingertips to the smooth skin of my throat.

There was no pain. No blood.

No evidence of the fatal mark left by a razor knife. I should be dead. There was no doubt; I remembered it so clearly. My throat was cut. I was following Klaus, moving into the city when someone came up behind me and sliced my throat with a single smooth sweep. So clean and quick it didn't hurt. Instead of pain, I only just felt the wrongness of it and a sense of being very badly hurt.

I remembered this incredible swell of darkness rising up to meet me, and I sank into death so quickly there was no time to feel afraid.

Only, I didn't die.

I opened my eyes to a small, hot room with a narrow window to let in air and light. I could hear the busy clatter of sound and voices from outside, which showed I was still in the city and very near a marketplace, if the level of noise was any indication. I looked dizzily around, confused and uneasy. My breaths hissed, sawing at my throat.

The room was noticeably bare. A rough wooden table set against one wall, with a chipped clay pitcher on top. A small crate that might have been a storage chest. And _**I**_ was tucked into a narrow bed low to the floor.

Coughing, I swallowed hard to try and moisten my throat a little. Licked my lips to find a strange film dried on them. My mouth burned with the cloying taste of salt and iron. Blood. Mine? Or . . . or _**his**_? Klaus. He wasn't here. I was alone in this little room.

My head ached horribly and I curled my toes. I wasn't wearing shoes . . .

I threw back the covers; a sudden, convulsive gesture. Sighed. I had my clothes on. My normal, everyday clothes – the same jeans and top I was wearing that fateful night I got swept up by the Black Box's trap. Seeing them, I tried to slow my suddenly racing heart. I was in a bed, by myself and I had my clothes on. Things couldn't be too bad.

I swung my feet off the side of the bed. My shoes were on the floor, arranged neatly right there and a quick sweep showed my leather satchel in plain sight on the table. I very quickly put on my ankle boots, distractedly wondering if it would be best to replace them with sneakers the first chance I got and then stood up. A heavy ache beat behind my eyes – what remained of a much worse headache.

I hooked my satchel and slid it over my head, slanting the strap securely over my chest and tip-toed to the door. Shoring up what I could of my courage, I cracked the door open by only an inch and peeked outside. My room opened into a corridor. I stuck my eye in the crack see more but there was nobody out there. Just more doors, evenly spaced down a dark hall.

Some sort of inn? Placing my hand flat against the solid wood, I carefully eased the door shut.

My stomach cramped, reminding me yet again that it was empty. I really needed to eat more often, if I was going to keep up my near-death experiences. My body needed fuel.

I almost laughed. It's not like I could just call down to the front desk: "Hello? I don't know my room number, but can you send up a pot of coffee and some toast?"

I was babbling in my own head. Sad, really.

Truth is, I didn't know what to do. I figured I was probably still in Constantinople but beyond that . . .

I picked up the clay pitcher and drank deeply straight from lip. The water was lukewarm and tasted stale but it quenched my thirst. I was dehydrated. Made sense that I was, given I bled to death on the street.

My hand went to my throat. Again. Fingers passing gently over the smooth, unbroken skin and I felt it again. Just as it was when it happened. The cold, slick slice across the front. The hot wash of blood. I trembled, my heart beating like thunder in my chest. What happened? Why would someone just . . .

No. No, I couldn't do this.

Shut it down. Just like jumping universes, I had to leave the horror behind.

I moved quickly to the bed and plopped myself down. Spun my bag around to sit it on my lap and pulled out a raisin granola bar. I would eat that and if Klaus didn't come back before I was done than I would have to take my chances and leave this place on my own.

Because I couldn't stay. And I was scared. And there was no one here to take care of me, so I needed to deal with this.

My granola bar was dry; making me immediately thirsty again but there was nothing left to drink in the pitcher. Frustration burned. Tears lodged in my throat, and I drew a shuddering breath. Trying desperately to regain my composure. And again, the litany: _I'm okay. It didn't die. Get over it, Amanda._

How was I supposed to just _'get over'_ having my throat cut?

While I ate, I went through my satchel. Fishing around to see what I had in there. The Black Box was still right where I left it, inside my bag. A void condensed into the shape of a cube, surrounded by foil-packets of snack bars and microwave rice and dry oatmeal flakes in plastic baggies. It looked ridiculous. The paper-wrapped hunk of white cheese and nuts I wanted to save was a mess; all crushed with parts of it oozing out from the paper. I must have fallen on my bag while in Predators, crushing it.

I took the goopy cheese out, not wanting it to get on everything and set it on the table.

I also found, curled around itself at the bottom of my bag, the string of crystal beads knotted together with a soft leather strip. A charm, I was told by the old woman who gave it to me. I didn't know if that was true or if there was any sort of magic in it at all, only that rubbing those little shiny beads between my fingers always did seem to make me feel better. They helped me to focus and keep calm.

So I took them now, and held the charm in my hand. Letting myself feel those cool, colorful crystals against my skin. Right away, I started to feel a little better. It was a relief.

If there _**was**_ some form of magic working, it was subtle. A soft spell.

But when you get to where it feels like you're holding on by your fingernails; when you can't breathe through the pressure tightening in your chest and all you want is to curl into a ball and cry . . . that small comfort is enough. It's what I needed and I clasped the charm to my chest, thankful I had it.

My eyes fell on a small slip of paper stuck to the bottom of my satchel. Frowning, I reached for it with the hand still clasping my granola bar and pulled the paper out. Used my thumb to flip it open and see what it said.

Inside, scribbled in blue ink was an address. A phone number.

"Oh, my god . . ." I whispered. Ethan. My brother, Ethan.

This was the paper he gave me the night I disappeared. Snatched up by the power of the Box. My heart ached as I stared at the sharp cuts of his handwriting. He always did scribble, his words slashed across the page. I passed my thumb over that blue ink . . . Ethan's promise that if I ever needed him, I just had to call. That he would be there for me. That our time apart didn't matter.

That I wasn't alone.

I closed my eyes, guilt and grief surfacing so quickly it made me sick. And for the first time, it occurred to me to wonder what happened to him after I disappeared. Our parents and other guests would have seen him, and then I was just gone. Vanished as if I blinked out because that's exactly what happened. Did they blame him? Did they think Ethan did something to me? It was preposterous, but what else would they think . . . Ethan was there, at a party where he didn't belong, and I was gone. Just gone.

The door swung open with a sharp crack and my eyes flew that way. Startled. I gaped at the dark figure striding in like he owned the place and I was so happy to see him that I nearly chucked my granola bar at him.

"Where the hell have you been?!" I demanded, too sharply. Too loudly. Way too fast, the words falling over each other. Klaus' immediate smirk, challenging me to actually throw the half-eaten bar at his head. I narrowed my eyes, _**so**_ tempted to do it.

Klaus gave me a few seconds to make up my mind then said, "I thought you'd want the one who sliced you from ear-to-ear. You're welcome."

"You went after my attacker?" I asked. "Did you get him?"

"No," Klaus said. The sharp slant of his mouth one of pure delight. He didn't seem too upset by the failure. I scowled at him and Klaus laughed at me, falling back on my bed to lounge around since there was no chair for him to sit on.

I scooted backward, moving my legs to avoid touching the hybrid. If Klaus noticed – or cared – he didn't comment. Blue eyes sharpened to flits of steel and his laughing grin turned dangerous. I noted the blood splattered on his shirtfront, still sticky-wet, and frowned. Slowly lifted my gaze back to his face. He was watching me.

"So," I said.

"So," he echoed.

"How many people did you eat?" I said, trying to sound like it didn't matter. It was just a question.

Klaus didn't look away. My heart sank. He really was all I had, now, and I've already seen him kill using his teeth. The way he tore into Edwin's throat, feeding so heavily that blood just gushed down the front of his sweater . . . but so much horror had already happened that my mind couldn't fixate on more so I just let it go. I didn't think about it.

But I was calmer now, and my hand went to my throat with the memory of my own brush with violence. I was worse now, than it was the moment it happened. I rubbed my hand over my throat, rubbing so hard that the skin started to burn. Klaus' sharp attention followed the motion and I stopped, dropping my hand to my lap. I was still holding the charm, and I pressed it into my palm. Struggling to make the little calming-magic work better.

Then something occurred to me, "How did you _**not**_ catch him? He was right there."

He had me in his arms. He was holding me against a rock-hard chest as he slid the knife over my throat, killing me so efficiently. But still. Klaus was only just a few feet ahead of me. Between his incredible speed and strength catching my attempted-murder should have been nothing.

"I could have gone after him," Klaus allowed. Added, "Or I could heal you."

He healed me. I woke with blood in my mouth. His.

_**His**_ blood. Vampire blood.

Did I die? The thought zinged through my mind, as hot and terrifying as an arrow on fire. Did I die? Was I dead?

"Oh, no. Oh, no. Klaus . . ."

His gaze shot to mine, genuinely startled by my less-than-gracious acceptance of his help. I met his gaze evenly, terrified of the implication.

"Am I dead?" I demanded, my voice sounding strangled to my own ears. "Klaus! Did I die?"

I remembered bleeding. I remembered the darkness. The sensation of sinking into a depthless swell of, of nothingness. My very last thought had been acceptance. I couldn't stop it. Couldn't breathe through the blood filling my lungs. I was dead. And then I wake up . . . wake up without a scratch.

"Are you asking me if you're in Transition?" Klaus mocked me.

I glared at him, fury rising so quickly at his tone. I was terrified and confused and hoping that no, I wasn't really, while already starting to think about what I would do if I was.

Klaus snickered. "No, little bird. You're still very much alive."

Little bird . . .

Could I believe him? Could I? Why would he lie? Because. He would lie because it would be fun to watch me figure this out on my own. I swallowed hard, moistening a painfully dry throat and looked away. My mind heaved with another thought. What if he was telling me the truth? If I was really okay, then he healed me while there was still time enough to do so.

"You picked me? You decided to save me before going after the guy?"

Klaus snorted. "Don't read too much into that one. The hunt is far more entertaining when you give them a head start."

"I don't doubt it," I said, very quietly. "Are you going to? I-I mean, are you going after him?"

Klaus rolled his shoulders, shrugging. Like he hadn't decided yet. He might. Or not, depending on his mood. I let my hair fall forward, partially hiding my face behind the long strands. Old habit my family would have recognized as me trying to buy time to think. I did it a lot when I was being questioned, so that I didn't have to answer right away. Klaus wasn't pressing for anything but I did it anyway.

"I could have left you there, to bleed out on the street," he said simply.

"Oh please," I muttered. Smiled ruefully. "You saved me as a matter of pride."

Klaus raised both eyebrows at that.

I explained. "Someone caught me with you right there. Got to be hard to let something like that go, for someone like you."

Klaus only just shrugged, making no effort to deny it. His attention wandered. He saw the way I held onto my little bead-charm. Glanced at my satchel folded on my lap. The sharp point of the Black Box poking up. He fixed on that in particular.

"How long do we have?" he asked.

"Twelve or so hours." I didn't even need to look.

Klaus nodded and glanced around the empty little room. Thoughts churning behind his nonchalance. I wondered what he was thinking about. My temper was already fading so I lost the adrenaline-fueled courage that would have had me pressing him just a minute ago. I sighed. Suddenly tired all over again.

"You have plans tonight?" Klaus asked.

Uh . . .

"What do you mean?" A pretty straightforward question, but stupid considering the situation. In less than a day, we were going to be in a whole other universe. And most of today I spent in a state of total unconsciousness. What plans could I possibly have made?

Klaus fixed me with a hot blue stare, a little gold bleeding into them. "Wanna help me catch the guy who tried to kill you?"

Yes.

No.

Hell, yes. Definitely.

Anger simmered, heating my blood like fire. I struggled to rein it in but the truth is, I didn't want to. I wanted to feel angry and vindictive and even though I knew it was safer to just let it go . . . I wanted to catch him. To face the one who tried to kill me and look into his eyes as he realized I was still very much alive.


	13. Chapter 12 - The Capture

_***It goes without saying that The Originals – the story and all related characters – belong to the writers, cast and crew of the show. I claim no ownership or association to the TV series titled The Originals. This was written by a fan solely for the enjoyment of other fans.***_

**QUICK WORD FROM DAYSTORM:** _Hey all. :) Thank you so, so much for your patience. You guys are incredible. I lost a lot of work when my USB broke . . . and trying to rewrite this chapter completely from memory made for some very flat writing. haha I had to completely reinvent it just so that I wasn't trying to write it word-for-word the way I had it before._

_Still, I hope this chapter was worth the wait. It's not exactly how I wanted it, but it was getting sort of long so we'll save the actual interrogation scene for chapter 14. And won't that be interesting!_

_All my best,_

_DayStorm_

**Chapter 12**

**THE CAPTURE**

* * *

"You corrupted everything we stand for, and lost everything we gained.

All of it, sacrificed on the altar of your own spite."

– **Altair ibn La-Ahad**

_Assassin's Creed: Revelations _(2011)

* * *

The irony hadn't escaped me.

Klaus Mikaelson, the most prolific serial killer . . . ever, I guess . . . and I was trusting him with my life. Why? Well, let's be honest. He was the only one who hadn't tried to kill me. This had to be the definition of the word because it was insane.

More, he healed me. He fed me his blood where he might so easily have just let me bleed to death right there on the street. Klaus saved me.

I wasn't sure what to make of that.

One could argue that he already saved me once before, in the Predators' universe; stopping Edwin from tossing me over the side of a sheer cliff . . . but to my mind he did that only out of convenience. Klaus needed blood, I had the Box and the timer was counting down that final minute. Klaus had avoided me most of the entire time we were in that world, showing zero interest in helping me and only reappearing at the very end when I was about to zap out of there anyway.

No, I wouldn't call killing Edwin as having anything to do with me.

But this time? This . . . this was deliberate. Klaus saved my life.

Out of all the ways I could have died, having my throat cut on a sunny street in fifteenth century Constantinople hadn't occurred to me. And I'd been giving it a lot of thought since I found my Black Box of Doom. But at least it would have made for an interesting headstone.

Not that I had any interest in a quick trip to the grave.

And that is why I wasn't particularly happy with my part in Klaus' plan.

"I'm the bait?" I demanded, to be sure I heard him right. "Badass master vampire feels the need to dangle me like a worm on a hook? Why don't you just go get him yourself?"

"Where is the fun in that? Imagine how surprised he'll be to see you, alive and well." I wasn't sure about the _'well'_ part but I was alive. For now.

"You know what happens to worms on hooks, Klaus?" I narrowed my eyes. "They get _**eaten**_!"

He laughed. I scowled.

Klaus seemed to find this whole thing incredibly funny, but I wasn't playing. My neck burned with phantom pain as I remembered the assassin's knife scoring over my throat; of course, in the moment it hadn't burned at all. The blade so sharp and the cut so quick that it'd only felt cold. A long, swift slide like an icy ribbon and a hot taste in my mouth.

I didn't want to feel that again.

I _**never**_ wanted to have to feel that again.

Not that I had any intention of sharing those inner thoughts with the hybrid sharing the room with me. He wouldn't care. He certainly wouldn't see it as a valid argument for why we shouldn't do this . . . dangle me like a tasty bit of meat and hope my assassin took the bait.

I heaved a sigh. We hadn't even left yet and already I was feeling doomed.

"You don't think I'll protect you?" Klaus said. He sounded as if he wanted to laugh, but there was tension in his voice.

"I think you'll do whatever is best for you," I told him. I kept my eyes lowered, not wanting to have to look at him when saying it. "We haven't been together for long, Klaus, but I know you well enough to know _**that**_."

Silence. I thought Klaus might have _**wanted**_ to be trusted, but I wasn't ready to give him that. Not yet. Maybe not for a long time.

What I said was true.

I _**didn't**_ know him and watching some version of him on TV every week hadn't prepared me for the real thing. Klaus was something else . . . and I'd only known the real him for two days. Two days since I accidentally dragged him into this with me. So little time . . . it seemed longer.

We were still in the little room where I first woke up, after my near-death experience. A cooling breeze scented with the sea and sand whistled through the narrow window. The sun was setting, slanting a single orange bar over the wall.

I grabbed my satchel off the bed, swinging it over my head. The familiar weight settling at my hip helped to steady me. Klaus waited by door, leaning on the wall. Booted feet crossed at the ankles, hands in the pockets of his black leather jacket. He looked dangerous. How many men can pull of a palpable menace when totally relaxed and not look like they were forcing it?

The slight glint in his smoky blue eyes put my back up.

"What?"

His gaze slid to my bag. "You're bringing that with you?"

Oh. A new tension rolled in my belly.

"I'm not going anywhere without it." I kept my voice even. Klaus raised a challenging brow, but I refused to compromise in this. "The Box is in there, and it's too big to fit in our pockets. I need my bag."

Breathless moment where I could have sworn the tension cracked the air.

I bristled, staring straight into Klaus' eyes and the part of my brain not currently staring down an Original thought that it was interesting . . . how meek I felt with other people, desperate not to draw attention to myself but that I had no problem whatsoever standing up to an immortal killer.

There was no more give in me, than in him. I would not leave this room without my satchel or my Box. My heart gave a single hard thump and Klaus' expression eased into a slow smile.

"You're a brave little thing, aren't you?"

I scowled and turned away, settling my satchel more snugly in its place and pulled on my windbreaker jacket. Carefully tucked my hair into the collar so that I could hide it under the hood.

"You know what I think?"

"I'm sure you'll tell me," I responded.

Klaus' smile widened. "I think you're nowhere near as helpless as you pretend. No, there's something else there. A fire in your eyes, little bird."

Little bird. Not the first time he called me that . . . I glanced curiously over, but Klaus' attention was already wandering. I wasn't the issue. I certainly wasn't any sort of threat. There was no reason for him to focus on me for more than a bit at any given time.

I zipped my coat with a sharp jerk. Said, "Back to my part in your plan. What do I do if the assassin gets me?"

"He won't," Klaus said, speaking to my back since I wouldn't look at him "Walk around. Shop, for all I care. Be seen in as many places as you can. We need your assassin to follow you."

Got it. I understood the plan.

I managed a smile, forcing away the tightness knotting in my chest and met Klaus' eyes again. He said, "Be seen, Amanda, and know that I'm watching too. If things go south, I'll be there to pull you out."

My mind turned, indecision warring with sense.

"You'll protect me?" I asked.

"You have my word."

Could I trust him? No. But I believed him . . .

–

The wind whistled coolly, running chill fingers across the back of my neck. I shivered and eyed the surrounding darkness. Thick shadows that breathed secret life into the night; I was never afraid of the dark but there was an edge to this silence. A hint of menace in the slowly swirling fog.

People disappeared on nights like this.

I quickened my step, shoes clicking on the brick path. Isabelle's heavy combat knife fit too easily in my hand. The weight comforting because it was solid. More than something to hold onto, it seemed to ground me. I clasped the knife closer; careful not to give away that I had a weapon.

I knew what was out here with me.

I wasn't alone and I felt it, the moment I drew my pursuer. A shadow; a phantom in the moonlit darkness. An assassin who had already succeeded once.

I shivered, drawing my jacket around myself and clutching my knife even tighter. The assassin wasn't the only invisible menace prowling after me. Klaus was out there, too, and there was some comfort in recognizing the power in a thousand year old vampire-werewolf hybrid creature looking out for me. I felt safe.

When I set out, the sun was only just peeking over the horizon. Sinking so fast I could watch the brilliant orange ball hiss into the sea drawing the curtain of black star-speckled night over the world. Like a veil. Night fell and with it, all the warmth went away.

It was late, now. Past midnight.

I paused, shoes scuffing the ground. The smell of fish and water wafted enticingly from the wharf, whirling on a salty breeze. I would have liked to keep going that way; to follow the winding canal down to the docks and the immense merchant ships that were there. Lanterns affixed to tall poles, lending just enough twinkling light to make them look like stars. There were people in that direction, even as late as it was. I could only just make out the flicker of bodies winking in and out of the tiny shining lights.

It was tempting. The false security of losing myself in a crowd. Instead, I turned away from the light and moved even deeper into the shadows. Daring my pursuer to take me.

Stones clattered sharply, pebbles kicked up and I stilled. Glanced uneasily down a narrow passage between two towering, indefinable buildings. The darkness so thick my eyes couldn't hope to pierce it. A chorus of drunken laughter and the shuffle of unsteady feet made me relax. I released the breath I hadn't noticed I was holding.

A stiff wind reeking of fish, saltwater and garbage whirled down the street. Whistling through the cracks in walls and slamming into my body with enough force to make me sway. It was too dark to keep this up, and my confidence wavered as the feeling of isolation deepened.

I kept walking, following the canal only because it was there.

The assassin was closer, now. I still saw/heard/smelled nothing but it was in the way my hair prickled. The burn between my shoulders. I was being watched. He was coming.

My own feet kicked up scattered pebbles. I stopped walking, finally happy with the spot on the street. The canal on my right; with water dark as ink. Wide swaths of cloud passed before the moon, their edges cut with silver.

Wet warmth prickled against the back of my hand, little droplets of moisture like sea spray. Too small to be rain. Too hot to be water. I lifted my hand, peering at the tiny splatters of crimson against the milky paleness of my skin. Eerily calm as I turned my gaze on the man looming over me, so near I could smell the tang of his sweat. He wore a thick wool hood, pulled low over his eyes.

I never saw him coming.

_**He**_ never stood a chance. If only he'd known that.

"Don't look so surprised, love," Klaus said genially, glowing eyes peeking over the other man's shoulder. He tilted a pleasant smile, so at odds with the savagery of what was happening. "I said I would protect you."

"My hero," I crooned, resisting the urge to slap my hands together and flutter my eyelashes in mock-adoration.

Klaus snickered.

I couldn't see what he'd done, but the man in the hood was alive and holding himself perfectly still. Blood slid slowly down his legs, over his scuffed boots to pool at his feet. A low, reluctant grunt escaped his throat like a breath of air. The only evidence that he was experiencing a terrible pain.

–

We brought my assassin back to the room.

What I thought was a small rented room – in a tavern or inn – was actually a private spot with a bed on the second floor of a brothel. Yes. Klaus thought a whorehouse was the perfect place to let me sleep and recover from almost dying. Joke aside, keeping me here was not a bad idea. Nobody talks about what they see in places like this, so the news of a dead girl in one of the upper rooms would stay a secret.

Imagining the activity going on in those other rooms was enough to make heat rise in my cheeks but that was before. Now there were more interesting things to consider. Like how our little outing bagged us a nice, big fish for dinner.

Klaus hadn't killed the man. Instead, he'd driven his hand straight into his back . . . and grabbed a hold of that long ribbon of bone in his fist. The assassin froze, hardly haring to breathe because someone was holding onto his spine. What must have been the most terrifying thing to happen to you and the assassin hadn't even bothered to wince.

That took either an incredible strength of will, or the most absolute instinct for survival.

Don't. Move.

Klaus slammed the assassin down on the bed, sitting him up straight on the thin mattress. He was near dead by that point. Too weak to care what was being done to him. I was the one to close the door, shutting off what was about to happen from the rest of the building.

Klaus slapped his bleeding wrist over the assassin's mouth, holding the back of his head to keep him from pulling away as strength very quickly returned to him. And he did try to stop Klaus from pouring blood down his throat . . . dark knives slid from his hidden holsters at his wrists. They sliced through the air with a sharp ringing sound. I gasped and by the time the sound was halfway out of my mouth Klaus had already caught the arm.

He pulled away and the assassin coughed and gagged, spitting scarlet all over the front of his woolly gray cloak.

"Klaus?"

The Hybrid snarled.

His hand shot out to clasp the assassin's jaw, gripping it so tightly he might have bent the bones and brought their faces together. Blue eyes burned with power.

And I _**felt**_ it. Just this incredible swell. Power that thrummed like thunder but without sound. Compulsion. I was in awe. Each and every word was a command that could not be disobeyed. Klaus wasn't even directing it toward me, and I could still feel my will buckling beneath his greater force. The assassin had no strength to resist.

"Stay," Klaus said. "You will sit here and answer me, truthfully."

_Yes,_ I thought.

"Yes," my assassin said.

Satisfied, Klaus released the man's jaw and stood back. Wordlessly, the assassin slipped off his hood to reveal his face and I felt a shock of surprise. He was an older man, but not worn down. His skin weathered and creased with lines that were called character. His neatly cut hair, medium-long was dark but dusted with gray which lightened to the color of pale ash at his temples. He was handsome, I realized. I hadn't expected that.

What was an assassin _**supposed**_ to look like?

I slipped up next to Klaus, trying not to look like I was leaning into him. I wanted to be closer to the action, instead of talking to the assassin from across the length of the room. "Who are you?"

The man looked up at me. Didn't move from his spot on the bed, where Klaus had ordered him to stay. Didn't speak, either. His dark eyes were hard and flat. Clearly intelligent, but he meant to give nothing away. I clenched my jaw, frustration rising quickly. What right did he think he had to keep quiet? Did he even recognize me as the girl he killed that morning?

I tried again. "What's your name?"

Nothing. The assassin continued to watch me, his unsettling gaze very quiet. A bloom of heat crossed over the front of my throat. Phantom pain to show where the cut had been. Fear and rage boiled over, so fast I couldn't have hoped to contain the sudden swell of emotion. In one surprisingly smooth motion, I pulled Isabelle's dagger from my bag and then darted forward, pressing the sharp tip into the assassin's throat.

See how he liked it. I dug the end into his skin, watching the way his skin indented sharply. The elasticity of flesh not too easily broken. I should have known that, but I didn't. I never did this before.

"You're name," I ground out through clenched teeth. "Tell me."

"Answer her," Klaus said sharply, from just behind me.

The assassin spoke, his voice rich and cultured. Heavily accented Italian. "Ezio. I am Ezio Auditore da Firenze."

"Ezio," I repeated. Ezio . . . I didn't know where to go from there. My hand shook, the knife slipping a bit and scraping harshly against his stubble. A tiny bead of blood bloomed right where the knife stopped, bright against his tanned skin. A warm, strong hand closed over mine. Stopping me from driving that knife deeper.

Klaus.

His smile was sharp. Lips pressed tightly together.

"I know you're new to this," he said. "But it's generally more productive to question the prisoner _**before**_ we kill him."


	14. Chapter 13 - The Traitor

_***It goes without saying that The Originals – the story and all related characters – belong to the writers, cast and crew of the show. I claim no ownership or association to the TV series titled The Originals. This was written by a fan solely for the enjoyment of other fans.***_

**A QUICK WORD FROM DAYSTORM:** I have several sentences in this chapter where Ezio is speaking in Italian. Now, because I don't speak Italian myself, I've needed to rely on a translator for this. haha Anyone who has ever played around with one of these knows how unreliable a translator can be.

So I apologies in advance for any errors. Feel free to point it out if the Italian-translations seem off. I've placed the English-translations at the end of this chapter, so that people who don't speak the language can still understand what Ezio was saying.

_Best,_

_DayStorm_

**Chapter 13**

**THE TRAITOR**

* * *

"I am a tactless minstrel, I sing off-key for coins.

If you spot me in the street, please kick me in the loins."

– **Ezio Auditore da Firenze**_ (singing)_

_Assassin's Creed: Revelations _(2011)

* * *

I leaned back, allowing Klaus to slip the knife from my hands.

Question the prisoner _**before**_ killing him . . . gotcha.

Honestly, I didn't intend to kill Ezio. My hand just slipped. But the look Klaus gave me suggested he was going to hold onto my knife for me, for a while. Like I couldn't be trusted with a weapon. I wrinkled my nose. He ignored that, slipping the heavy combat-knife into his leather coat.

Yeah. No killing the prisoner. I know!

Satisfied, Klaus turned to the assassin called Ezio with a tilted smile that was full of promise. It was a dangerous look and one I would not have wanted to be on the receiving end of. But Ezio was equal to it and there wasn't so much as a flicker of unease showing in his eyes. His expression remained impassive.

"Alright. Let us being," Klaus said, clapping his hands together with entirely too much enthusiasm. I stood back, my head wheeling a little from all the things that'd happened today. Overwhelmed and knowing that there would be more to come. I was suddenly just very, very tired.

And now Klaus had a human compelled to sit and stay. The power of Klaus' compulsion would hold him there more firmly than if his body were encased in concrete. Ezio would not move, no matter how badly he wanted to.

I cleared my throat. "Are we, uh, actually going to torture him?"

"Oh, absolutely," Klaus said, attention fixed forward on the assassin. "But don't worry, love. I don't expect you to participate."

So kind; letting me opt out of torturing a man.

I swallowed my protests, actually more confused than I cared to admit. I was not okay with torture. I was sure of that. No part of me was fine with . . . with doing things like that. But at the same time, Ezio tried to kill me. For all intents and purposes, he even succeeded. Without Klaus' healing blood, I wouldn't have made it.

I never wanted to hurt somebody before.

I wanted to hurt Ezio. I wanted him to suffer for what he did to me.

But torture? A constant and deliberate effort to hurt him . . . that wasn't okay.

"You said something to me," I blurted, then caught my bottom lip in my teeth. Klaus glanced over, thinking I was talking to him. Ezio kept his brown eyes locked on Klaus' face. Ezio was remarkably stoic. I could see no fear in his eyes. Just this quiet calm and I wondered if the man had any idea I was trying to buy him a few more seconds before Klaus got started.

"After you . . . when I . . ." I paused. Drew a short breath and went on, "You whispered it in my ear, right before I dropped. You said something and I can't remember what it was."

A beat of silence. I could hear the wind whispering through the streets outside, the hiss of it through cracks in the wall. A low, deep call of some night bird. A harsh sound in the darkness.

Ezio slowly slid his gaze to me. That eerie calm chilling me to the bone.

"_Traditore,_" Klaus replied in place of the assassin. "He called you a traitor."

I didn't understand. I hadn't been in this world an hour when Ezio came up behind me and sliced my throat open. What could I possibly have done in that time that I deserved to die for it? I thought back, but there were no answers there. I remembered trailing after Klaus down to the fish market. A brief moment of bickering with the hybrid and then we turned back up toward the city.

"How did you know I was there?" Frustration burned. The underside of my skin feeling hot. I was angry. Scared. Angry _**because**_ I was scared. I hated this; hated being so lost. "Tell me! How could you know we were there? You didn't follow us. You couldn't have."

"It was all just chance, Amanda." Klaus crossed his arms over his chest, resting most of his weight on one leg and tilted a smile. "He didn't have any idea we would be there. He saw us and took advantage of our distraction to take you."

But what would it matter if he'd seen us?

Klaus tilted smile twisted into something savage. Faster than my eyes could follow, he whipped his arm in a neat arc pulling my knife from the inside of his coat and driving it into Ezio's stomach with a solid _thunk_. One iron hand closed over Ezio's shoulder, holding him still while Klaus twisted the knife with a painful slowness.

I squeaked, startled, and leapt back bruising my hip on a corner of the table. Our one little candle swayed, causing the flame to dance and a pattern of light and shadow flickered over the walls.

"What'd you do that for? He wasn't doing anything!"

"Really, what did you think we were going to do to him when we caught the man?" Klaus said to me, sounding distinctly condescending. It put my back up, but rather than huff and pretend I hadn't said anything I argued with him.

"You can _**compel**_ people," I bit out. "So just look him in the eye and do your mind control thing."

Klaus' smile was like a shark's. All teeth, no humor and I thought I caught just the faintest shine coloring his irises. Very clearly baiting me, he twisted the heavy knife even deeper into Ezio's bleeding stomach eliciting a wheezing gasp from the man.

I gritted my teeth.

Klaus' eyes flashed, once, very brightly.

"Don't pretend to care that I'm hurting him, Amanda," Klaus said. "You know you want him to feel what you felt. You want him to suffer, for what he did to you. Remember how it felt to have his knife scoring over your throat? He killed you. He wanted to and so he did. What mercy do you think you owe him?"

Yes. Heat flushed my face. I did want to hurt him, I wanted him to suffer just as Klaus said. And it took a concentrated effort for me to push that down. Bury the emotion. It wasn't right. Maybe . . . maybe if there was no other way than . . than questioning . . . but Klaus had compulsion in his arsenal. There was no need for this.

But didn't Ezio deserve some suffering? He tried to murder me! For what? For nothing. No reason at all.

"Conflicted, love?" Klaus taunted.

Yes. I was. Far more than I should have been.

Another pained wheeze blew from Ezio's lungs. I narrowed my eyes on Klaus.

"Give me my knife back."

"Are you serious?"

"Then take it out of his stomach and heal that!" I said sharply. Geez, what happened to questioning the prisoner before killing him?

"Right." Klaus jerked the heavy combat knife out of Ezio's body in a single quick tear that I fervently hopped didn't do more damage that it had going in. The slick, non-reflective blade was gummed with blood. Grinning, Klaus held it out to me. The knife balanced on his open palm in invitation for me to take it.

A tight, hot knot formed in my stomach.

I didn't make a face, like I wanted, or shake my head. Instead, I took the knife from him.

It felt heavier in my hand than I remembered. A thick trickle of Ezio's blood slid down the blade, then over my fingers and it was already cold. I kept my face carefully blank, not wanting to show any emotion at all at the feel of it against my skin.

Ezio was panting heavily, but made no more noise than that. My god. I stared at him, so impressed that I actually forgot the blood seeping through my fingers. A single bead of sweat trickled from his hairline down between his eyes, following the line of his nose then catching on his upper lip. The only real evidence that he was feeling any discomfort at all.

I glanced at Klaus. He was looking back at me, that infuriating little smirk challenging. I looked at Isabelle's knife in my hand – thick crimson streaking the blade – and then at Ezio. He was staring right back at me with nearly the same challenge in their depths as Klaus had.

"Why did you try to kill me?" I asked him, quietly.

He didn't respond, and for a second I thought he would keep that stoic silence. Klaus would crack faster than I would, and remove his head if he didn't at least say something. I glanced at the knife again, aware that I was holding the dripping thing between us. Swallowing hard, I placed it on the little table behind me. Putting it down so at least Ezio could see I didn't mean to use it.

The front of his soft gray outfit was wet with blood. It continued to seep from the deep puncture in his belly, soaking so thickly into the wool of his tunic that it looked glossy black in the candlelight. Gummy and thick and wet.

Klaus took my arm, pulling me back. Away from the assassin who, at this moment, couldn't have taken another shot at me even if he wanted to. At least, that's why I figured Klaus moved me back. It wasn't.

He leaned forward, bracing his fists on either side of Ezio. His weight indenting the mattress he was almost nose-to-nose with the man. A sharp little smile still playing over his expression. I stared at the side of Klaus' face, not understanding what he intended to do.

Color bled into the smoky blue of Klaus' eyes. Brilliant golden light, as bright as newly minted coins. Klaus pulled his lips back, exposing the bone white length of fangs.

I knew what he was. So for me, the sudden change was startling but not alarming.

Ezio was in no way prepared for this.

It was the first real emotion he'd shown, his mask cracking at the sight of glowing eyes and wicked fangs inches from his throat. Not that I blamed him. Ezio jerked bodily away from Klaus – as far as the compulsion would allow. Face ashy white; eyes wide in disbelief. I could practically see his mind spin, struggling for an explanation the same way mind had when I first jumped into a new universe. Logic churning around what he was seeing with his own eyes.

This was real. It couldn't be, but it was.

He released a barrage of words, so fast that they tumbled over each other. It was all said in Italian, so I couldn't understand what he was saying and I saw the moment a decision was made.

Ezio's mind was shaped and molded by the world he grew up in. By the date . . . one so far behind what I would have seen on my own calendar. He was a man shaped by the fifteenth century and all the beliefs that came along with that. His mind settled on the most logical answer it had to offer for what Klaus was supposed to be.

"– _il diavolo_!"

I lifted a brow. "Did he just call you a demon?

Klaus pushed off from the bed and braced both hands behind his head, lacing his fingers. Eyes still glowing. Fangs flashing. "The devil, Amanda. He called me the devil."

He sounded just so pleased by that, I felt the need to point out: "Vampire, Niklaus. Not really at the same level as the devil. Calm down."

Totally unapologetic, Klaus laughed.

But now Ezio was watching me again – observing how easily I spoke to this devil-creature.

"_Hai fatto un patto con il diavolo . È così che è sopravvissuto._" Ezio sputtered out, biting off the words as if they left a foul taste in his mouth. "_Il vostro è un tradimento che non può essere perdonato, ma per contrattare la vostra anima per il potere che non è mai stato concepito per essere il vostro. . . sei perso, Giovanna._"

I understood none of that. Ezio was clearly speaking directly to me, in a language I didn't know as if he expected me to just get what he was saying. I cast a sideways glance to Klaus, questioning. His focus zeroed on Ezio and his eyes seemed to flare momentarily brighter before he released the hybrid gold, his irises fading back to blue.

"What did he say?" I prodded.

"He's accused you of selling yourself to the devil, love," Klaus told me. Shocking because I really expected him to go on ignoring me.

"He thinks I sold my soul to you?" I shook my head. "Hope I got a good price for it. What'd I buy?"

And that – that – was so unexpected all around that Klaus just stood there. Totally mystified. I was plain weird, seemed to be his opinion of me.

"For real," I said.

"Power," he responded, sounding a bit dazed. He blinked, coming back to himself. "What else would you sell your soul for, love, if not power?"

"Great. So I'm shallow." I crossed my arms. Huffed. "Power. How original."

Klaus snorted. He turned back to the assassin and took off in a flurry of Italian, leaving me behind. I heard some words repeated. _'Giovanna'_ and again, _'il diavolo'_. The devil.

Giovanna. It sounded like a name.

A chill worked its way up my back. The name itself was unfamiliar but something inside of me shifted. An idea. Or a thought. Something that danced just out of reach. A soap bubble, shimmering faintly just out of reach. Something fragile.

What was it? Something . . . something . . . like it was right on the tip of my tongue, I just couldn't quite . . .

"Who is Giovanna?" I said, breaking into what Klaus was saying.

Ezio was fixed on the hybrid – the devil-creature he assumed Klaus to be, even though his eyes weren't glowing anymore. And he'd put his fangs away. Ezio could have been ignoring me but I recognized that look. Ironically from having seen it on Klaus himself. I was being dismissed as the lesser threat. Or as no threat at all.

"Giovanna," I repeated. "You thought I was her. It was never me you meant to kill, was it? It was this other girl."

Very quietly, Ezio allowed, "You have her look, _ragazza_, though not her voice. I believe I may have been mistaken."

Klaus let gold leak back into his eyes, making the blue in them brighter. Neat trick. He'd set his eyes on fire. Beautiful to look at, if you weren't already scared he was the devil.

"You mistook her" quick jerk of his head to me "for your traitor. Not an accident. Are you saying this was only just a case of mistaken identity?" Klaus paused, letting that hang for a second and then, almost as if speaking to himself added, "_**Identical**_ strangers . . . isn't that interesting."

Identical. I looked straight back at Ezio. He slid his gaze from Klaus' face back to mine and I was immediately caught by them. Soft gray-brown eyes, but hard too. Like wood. Strong. Intelligent. Unbroken. He showed no fear that we would torture him for answers. His body gave the correct responses to pain. He was pale and sweating, his pupils dilated very wide. But this was one who wouldn't bow to fear or the promise of hurt.

My thoughts churned, struggling to make sense of . . . all of it. Of him and Giovanna and why I'd had to die because of her. This Giovanna person, who I had never met before, looked so much like me in the clear light of day that Ezio had been _**certain**_ of my identity.

And still, he'd been wrong.

Identical strangers.

"Who is she?" I asked him. "What could she have done, that your first impulse was to kill her?"

_Traditore_. Traitor.

I said, "She's a traitor?"

"Sì," he said. "And you, _ragazza_, are something altogether different. _Che sacrificio deve averti fatto , per il potere del diavolo?_"

"_Diavolo_, again?" I echoed, distracted. "Please, please stop saying that! There is no devil. He's a vampire."

"_Vampiro_?"

Klaus. "I'm a hybrid, love. Not a vampire."

Whatever. That wasn't what bugged me. Klaus seemed to be getting off on Ezio mistaking him for a devil. Not too sure I liked that he was enjoying this, but that wasn't the point either. I wouldn't let these two sidetrack me.

Because I had just figured something out. My little soap bubble getting clearer. There it was.

Someone who looked like me. Someone who looked exactly like me.

Not a twin. Not a doppelganger . . . what if . . . what if this person _**was**_ me.

Alternate universes. I trembled at the implication but also with irritation that I hadn't foreseen the possibility. With an infinite number of universes, an infinite series of possibilities, it only made sense that every single thing that existed would come around again. It was very possible that I would exist in several alternate worlds. That Klaus and Ezio and all of us . . . we were none of us unique. How? How did I miss this?

I knew how. I'd latched onto the depressing odds of ever circling around to my own universe – that I would have to wander forever without ever finding my way home. So I missed everything else that came with this.

Giovanna.

This girl who looked exactly like me . . . was very simply the _**same**_ me. She was me, born in another world.

"Not exactly the same," I said, voicing my thoughts out loud. "She did something really awful, didn't she? Giovanna. This traitor. You struck me in full daylight, in the middle of a busy street . . . because there's a standing kill-on-sight order on her head."

I wasn't meant to be murdered.

This . . . this was a hit.

* * *

**BONUS:** _**Here is the English translation of the things Ezio was saying. :D**_

_**#1**_ \- _"You made a deal with the devil. That is how you survived."_ Ezio sputtered out, biting off the words as if they left a foul taste in his mouth. _"Yours is a betrayal that cannot be forgiven, but to bargain your soul for power that was never meant to be yours . . . you are lost, Giovanna."_

_**#2**_ \- "Sì," he allowed. "And you, _girl_, are something altogether different. _What sacrifice must you have made, for a devil's power_?"

_**#3**_ – _"Giovanna"_ Italian proper-name that, of course, is the feminine version of_ "Giovanni"_


	15. Chapter 14 - Revelations

_***It goes without saying that The Originals – the story and all related characters – belong to the writers, cast and crew of the show. I claim no ownership or association to the TV series titled The Originals. This was written by a fan solely for the enjoyment of other fans.***_

**Chapter 14**

**REVELATION**

* * *

"To say that '_nothing is true'_ is to realize that the foundations of society are fragile

and that we must be the shepherds of our own civilization."

– **Ezio Auditore da Firenze**

_Assassin's Creed: Revelations _(2011)

* * *

Ezio wasn't ready to talk.

But I think he believed us that I was not the traitor, Giovanna. I was not the girl he was meant to kill. The realization that he so coolly assassinated the wrong person struck a chord in him. He didn't strike me as a man who made many mistakes and this was a big one.

So even though he wasn't ready to talk, he did.

"She arrived on the morning of the summer equinox. A fair-haired girl with eyes as gray as the sea, she came as if conjured out of the air. An enchantress, some called her and I must admit that there was a particular power beating within her." Ezio paused, aware that he was essentially describing me, too. Only I was no enchantress. In my old life, I would turn heads only if I had spinach caught in my teeth.

Not that I wasn't attractive. I was, but I was also weird so people would avoid me. The girl who couldn't speak up if her life depended on it and would stand at the front of the class, sweating and panicky when asked to write something on the board. I _**hated**_ being looked at. All those eyes, all fixed on me. Seeing me. Judging. I was . . . weird. There was no other way to say it. And that weirdness put people off, so that whatever attention my prettiness might get me was instead deflected.

No. I definitely wasn't an enchantress by any stretch of the imagination.

Ezio took a breath, wincing a little as the wound in his stomach pulled. A fresh trickle of blood escaped, deepening the crimson-wet staining the front of his tunic. Klaus hadn't healed Ezio after driving a knife into him. I was pretty sure that was deliberate.

Let the assassin sit there, bleeding and in pain. Weaken him. Physically, of course, but also to wear down his inner strength. That one would take more time. It would need to be gradual, spread out over an extended period.

Ezio went on, ignoring the hurt, "She introduced herself to us as Giovanna Pellegrini. It was assumed she was _Italiano_, though she never offered her place of origin. She came to us, requesting the protection of the assassins. She was hunted, she said. Pursued across _Europa_ as if she were a rabbit beset by hounds."

"Hunted by who?" I asked.

"She did not know. Shadows, she called them. Men who struck only at night, rising out of the earth as if they were demons summoned from the depths of hell." Ezio offered a rueful little smile. "Few believed this wild tale of monsters, though Giovanna's terror seemed genuine. We believed she may have been confused by the darkness. A mere man can appear and disappear as easily as any phantom, should he desire it."

"A lie," Klaus offered. He cut a sharp smirk. "She wanted something."

I shivered and Klaus cast a sidelong glance my way; the candlelight accentuating the bones in his face creating deep shadows and hollows. Distorting the shape. He looked savage and mysterious there in the room with us. Or like the devil Ezio had mistaken him for.

I looked away.

"As I said, she was an enchantress," Ezio shook his head, eyes narrowing. "She too easily captured the attention of our Master, though not through seduction. Had she tried to seduce one of our order; we might have discovered her purpose sooner. But no. _Lei non era uno sciocco_. She chose a far subtler method. The master of our order was quickly fascinated. Clearly a learned-girl, they would both be found awake late into the night sharing mulled wine and discussing all manner of worldly topics. Philosophy. Science."

A muscle ticked in his jaw, then. "She was brilliant, if one was prepared not to look too closely. But her vast fount of knowledge was very much like a map largely eaten by mice. There were great holes in those things she knew, and she would often find herself unable to answer many simpler questions."

"What do you mean?"

"Giovanna was able to speak at length on any number of topics, but could say nothing of politics and had only the vaguest notion of current events." He paused again, thinking back on this mysterious girl who came out of nowhere. A lot like me, if you think about it.

She mystified him. And I thought maybe the master of his order wasn't the only one who'd been fascinated. I watched Ezio's face closely, trying to gauge his thoughts. Had he been attracted to her? Because that would have made this whole thing infinitely more strange. I was _**identical**_ to this girl. I wasn't sure I would have felt comfortable so close to him, if he lusted after her. But I couldn't tell.

Ezio was showing more emotion than before, letting little bits slip through his stoicism but nothing of what he felt about her showed.

"Never mind," I said. "That's not important. Why was she there? What did she want?"

"An artifact," Ezio said simply. "A small historical device that was hidden away."

Klaus stood up straighter, coming off the wall he was leaning on. Interested in what Ezio had to say for the first time since the man started talking. "What artifact?"

"A minor piece," Ezio answered evasively.

"Like hell," Klaus said. "Your little enchantress went to quite a lot of trouble, to steal some nothing-artifact. _**What**_ did she make off with?"

As tense as the discussion had gotten, I couldn't help but smile. Whoever she was – the _'me'_ from another universe – she managed to embarrass a league of assassins. More than imagining her as a mysterious enchantress who just appeared one day, I liked thinking she was some sort of badass. It made me feel . . . special. If _**I**_ couldn't be cleaver and brave, it was nice knowing that some version of me was. Weird thing to be proud of.

Klaus' question pushed Ezio in a direction he wasn't willing to go, and I saw him shut down as if a switch were flicked. His face turned to granite. Unreadable and impenetrable. Klaus hissed through his teeth, sensing defiance in our captive. And that wouldn't do. I darted forward, placing myself squarely in front of the assassin but Klaus was faster.

He had me by the arm and whirled out of the way between one heartbeat and the next. Brutal speed, he moved like a whip of lightning. It was incredible.

I slammed into a wall, air whooshing from my lungs. A dull ache spread from my shoulder up around to the curve of my neck. Nothing too terrible. I was just shoved out of the way. I slumped down to the floor, head wheeling from how fast I'd gone from there-to-here. Klaus literally moved – and moved me – faster than I could follow it.

By the time my eyes caught up and my vision cleared, Klaus had Ezio by the throat. Eyes burning hybrid gold. Power swelling out from him, filling the room with an invisible wave that seemed to press against the walls. Such a piercing sensation that I stayed where I was. Not even wanting to pull myself off the floor.

Ezio recognized what was happening and had the sense to try and evade Klaus' compulsion by turning his gaze but Klaus wouldn't let him. Forcing the man to meet his gaze, and the human assassin was helpless to resist. Like a fly in amber. He was caught.

"Tell me," Klaus ground out, his voice deeper than normal. "The truth. What was stolen?"

"Why do we care?" I asked, very quietly.

Klaus, not turning away from our captive, hissed "Hush".

"Giovanna came for the Apple; unaware it was no longer in our possession."

Said in a perfect monotone.

"Why did you think you had it?" Klaus demanded.

"The Assassin's were the last to be seen in possession of it."

"And when was this?"

"In the thirteenth century, in the hand of Master _Altair Ibn-La'Ahad_."

I spoke up, unintentionally easing the mounting tension. I had no idea. "The thirteenth century? We're in the fifteen hundreds, now. Klaus, this girl was looking for the damn thing as if she thought these guys still had it."

Snarling, Klaus released the assassin and stood away. Eyes returned to cool blue and I finally got up. Ezio looked confused; head full of fog. Klaus rolled his shoulders, as if loosening sore muscles while waiting for the man to pull himself together.

"A couple hundred years is not too long to still be in possession of a valuable trinket," Klaus said to me. "Your double might not have been wrong going to the Assassin's to find the thing."

The thing. The ancient artifact kept by a league of Assassins, hidden away. An apple?

"What apple?" I asked suddenly. "Ezio! Hey, focus. What's the apple?"

He blinked, turning with great effort to look at me still seeming lost in a fog.

"I'm guessing Giovanna wasn't after a piece of fruit," I said, snarking a little. "So, what is the apple?"

Obviously just a name to mask what the artifact really was.

Ezio rubbed a hand over his throat, massaging Klaus' fingerprints from his skin. Jeez. The flesh was already purpling from how hard the hybrid had driven his fingers into Ezio's poor throat. The guy tried to kill me, but I still felt a flash of sympathy for the damage he was taking in our custody. Klaus wasn't exactly a gentle jailer . . . to say the least.

"In a word, _ragazza_, the Apple is Temptation incarnate," Ezio said. Speaking to me, now. Just me. His dark eyes passing over my face with recognition but no familiarity. Eerie combination, it made my skin crawl. "Those who were subjected to the Apple's glow are promised the world in return for total obedience. It is a device of subjugation, and who can refuse? As I said. It is pure temptation."

A breeze hissed through the slats in our window, stirring the warm air inside our little room and it caused the candle flame to dance. Light and shadows played over the smooth walls. I shivered and pulled my jacket around myself, crossing my arms over my stomach. Klaus didn't move, hardly seeming to notice the creepy coincidence. Eyes as blue as a morning sky deceptively tranquil. He watched the Assassin still sitting on the bed – unable to get up from that spot because of the power of Klaus' compulsion.

"She found the artifact."

Ezio tilted his head. A wordless affirmative.

"Is that . . ." I hesitated, not exactly sure how I meant to phrase the question. "I mean, it doesn't work. The Apple device. It's just a myth."

Klaus cocked a brow at Ezio but I'd already turned away. Paced toward the closed and locked door of our room. Stopped. Turned, and paced the few steps back to the bed. Ezio watched me, and I hated the speculation there. The way he would look at my face and recognize me, even knowing we had never met before today. A reminder that I was a stranger in this world, intruding in my double's . . . in her place. I wasn't her.

Ezio declined to offer any sort of opinion on whether or not he thought the Apple was real. Instead, he slid that piecing gaze back to Klaus and said, "I believe Giovanna may be here, in this city. She fled quickly, after she got what she needed from us."

"Smart girl," Klaus allowed. I didn't miss his quick glance, or the tug at the corners of his mouth.

"Fine. So what's she doing now?"

Ezio shrugged, lifting just one shoulder in a mime of nonchalance. "The Apple of Eden is what she braved a den of Assassin's for, _ragazza_. I said she found it. I never said she _**had**_ it."

Exhaustion and a fair amount of stress made me slow. But Klaus immediately got what the man was saying. He threw his head back and laughed, delighted.

"It's _**here**_. It's in the city. The device is in Constantinople and so is Giovanna."

* * *

**BONUS – Italian to English translation**

**#1 –** _". . . _Had she tried to seduce one of our order; we might have discovered her purpose sooner. But no. _She was no fool_. She chose a far subtler method . . ."

**#2** – "_ragazza_" means "girl"


	16. Chapter 15 - The Underground

_***It goes without saying that The Originals – the story and all related characters – belong to the writers, cast and crew of the show. I claim no ownership or association to the TV series titled The Originals. This was written by a fan solely for the enjoyment of other fans.***_

**Chapter 15**

**THE UNDERGROUND**

* * *

"A minute is all I need! . . . wait . . . that came out wrong . . ."

– **Ezio **to** Cristina Vespucci**_ (1476)_

_Assassin's Creed_

* * *

The rising sun glinted silver off the sea, shining brilliantly on the orange water. It was dawn, and the air was still cool and fresh. It smelled clean. As if all of yesterday was washed away, and today really was brand new. This was a morning full of promise and possibility. Another chance to do better, to do more than what came before.

A fanciful thought. Also a useless one.

Ezio led us through the slowly stirring city. Hooded and broad-shouldered; eyes gleaming and rust-colored stains on the front of his tunic he was very clearly a man not to be bothered. Klaus, lanky and dark followed the silent assassin like a menacing shadow. He fairly hummed with a restless energy that still, to me, seemed like that of a young wolf pacing around a cage much too small for it.

They made for an interesting pair. Both dangerous. Both possessing a palpable aura of power and mastery. These were men who could kill you and never think of you again. The people we passed on the street felt it as keenly as I did. No one shouted for us to come and look at their wares. Eyes were lowered, gazes averted. An unconscious cringe: _Don't look at me. I'm not here._ Nobody wanted to draw attention to themselves.

No one except for me.

I kept very close to Klaus, my arm brushing his. Hand resting lightly on my satchel as we walked and I curled my fingers into the soft lambskin leather. I wasn't comfortable in the open and the rising sun made me feel even more exposed. Vulnerable. And with the streets growing more and more crowded as we left the seedier city underbelly of brothels and gaming houses for the marketplace – where reputable shop owners were only just opening for the day – the sensation of panic thrumming like an electric hum through my body got worse.

I'm not an idiot. I knew my twitchy paranoia had more to do with the trauma of having my throat cut on a sunny, wide-open street . . . and I had no idea how to fix this. I would have to, though. Because clinging to Klaus' sleeve forever was not an option. Just like jumping universes; I needed to get over it.

But _**how**_?

How do you just "get over" almost dying? I wished I was stronger. Better able to just deal with things but I couldn't. I couldn't put it out of my mind. Perversely, I imagined that Giovanna might have done better. She was me. She was the version of me with enough courage and cunning to walk into a den of assassins and manipulate the lot of them to get what she needed.

But it all happened so fast and that – _**that**_ – had shaken me right to the core. No time to shout. To plead or bargain or even look my killer in the eye. One swift cut and I . . . it was just over.

I trembled.

A gull swooped low, screaming for fish.

"Here," Ezio said quietly.

I glanced up, surprised to find I'd been staring at the ground this whole time. My eyes following the cracks between the sandy paving stones; trusting Klaus' presence to keep me headed in the right direction.

"Here?"

Ezio dropped down, disappearing from sight into a deep basin dug into the ground. Paved with smooth brick stones. An aqueduct, I thought as I let my gaze travel back along the length of it. A channel made to move water from one end of the city to another. The water seemed very low, to me. A few feet deep, it came up just past Ezio's hips.

There was a stiff enough current tugging at his clothes. The water rehydrated the bloodstains on his tunic, causing it to swirl out into the water. Pinkish ribbons weaving like smoke off of him. Ezio turned his face up, dark eyes meeting mine through the folds of his hood and a shiver worked its way up the length of my spine to erupt in prickles all across my scalp. My hair actually standing on end.

If we hadn't spent half the night torturing him, I might have trusted Ezio. Might have believed he wanted to help us, for no other reason than because we needed him. But no. He was our captive. Totally under Klaus' control. Still in a great deal of pain from the wounds inflicted on him by a devil with glowing yellow eyes and sharp wolf's teeth.

My stomach knotted at Ezio's level, unwavering gaze. He looked so calm.

Klaus vaulted down into the canal. The assassin glanced at the hybrid. Silent.

Fine. I sat down on the ground, and slid carefully into the waterway with the other two. Aware of how stupid we would look to anyone who happened to spot us down there. And not caring in the least.

The water was cold! I gasped when my feet went in. Water rising up over my legs, hips to centre-stomach. Shorter than the two men, the water was deeper to me than it'd seemed when Ezio jumped in. The current tugged at my clothes, also stronger than it had looked from above. I felt it like a shove, threatening to tangle around my feet and knock me down if I wasn't careful.

"Not far, now," Ezio assured me, seeing the way I held my arms up out of the water. He cast another quick look to Klaus and with compelled honesty informed him, "There are a network of tunnels beneath the city. There, we will find a small sunlit cavern. It is the place where I originally located one of the five _Masyaf keys_ I expect would open the _Library of Altair Ibn-La'Ahad_."

"Why does that matter?" Klaus asked caustically. He said it like he actually knew what any of that meant. I got the distinct impression he had no clue. But I wasn't going to call him on it. It was important that he and I appear united, in front of the observant assassin.

Ezio allowed a small, tight smile. "Because Giovanna Pellegrini will make her way there, if anywhere, in search of the artifact she covets."

"Then let's go!" I snapped, teeth chattering. The rising sun glinted, shining white and warm against my skin but the parts of me touching water were already freezing.

Klaus nodded, tilting his chin and the assassin obediently moved to a narrow grate set in the basin wall. He stuck his fingers through the bars and gave a short, hard tug. The grate moved with a harsh scrape. He tugged again, drawing the grate out of the bricks. Hefting the heavy thing, griping it tightly, Ezio set it carefully to the side.

Klaus and I crowded closer, and I peeked inside. Darkness. Nothing menacing, just an absence of sunlight. The glow reached only about a foot into the opening and then faded to shadows.

"Quickly. It is unwise to linger here were we might be seen," Ezio said. "Do not worry. The rats are only as large as dogs."

I rolled my eyes and crawled into the hole, bracing my hands on the muddy bottom and pulling the rest of my body into the tunnel. I was not afraid of rats. Bugs, maybe. The bricks inside the tunnel were coated in inches of filth and slime and things that grew in the damp and dark.

The hollow drip-drip of moisture and inches of standing water. The hard, solid walls magnifying echoes. My pants were sopping wet. The bottom of my shirt dripping. Another icy chill prickled my skin and I felt this intense need to pee.

No time for that.

I slid along the narrow tunnel, using my hands to feel the way and found that the passage wasn't all that long. I came out into a wider space after only a couple yards. Too dark to see anything, but I could sense it. The way the walls pulled away. The ceiling rising up, so I didn't have to watch that I didn't knock my head. I took a breath, drawing reeking air into my lungs and stepped out of the way as the others came through. Ezio first, and then Klaus. The hybrid not trusting anyone behind him in such an enclosed space as a drainage tunnel.

It was pitch dark in here. I crossed my arms over my chest, shivering in the damp and wondered how many things were alive down here with us. Worms. Bugs. Spiders. And the cold, cold humidity pinching my bladder.

"There is light further in. Follow the wall," Ezio said, his deeply accented voice far richer in the black. I extended my hands, fingers sliding against brick. Rough but soggy. Slime so thick it was practically algae. Ugh.

Ezio swept past me, needing no light to know where he was going. He'd taken this path before. Often, by the feel of it. I fell back, letting him lead. Moisture beaded in my hair. Condensation forming. Our bodies so much warmer than the surrounding atmosphere.

A heavy hand clamped over my shoulder, startling me.

"Eep!" I shrieked, without meaning to.

Klaus snickered in my ear. "Hold onto my arm."

"What?

"I can see where I'm going, love," he explained. "Take my arm. Unless you'd rather scrabble along the wall, losing yourself in the dark."

Heat flooded my face, rising up to burn hottest in my cheeks. My eyes were not adjusting to the dark, even after a few minutes' time. Long enough that they would have, if they were going to. So surprising even myself, I touched his sleeve. The leather of his coat warm and soft. Hard, corded muscle bunching beneath my fingers.

I held onto him, but lightly. Just enough to let Klaus guide me.

He didn't say anything. In the pitch black I became more aware of his presence. Power thrummed all around him. Something I couldn't quite put into words. He seemed to fill whatever space he occupied fully. This dark passage too small to hold all of him. Again, restlessness crackled around the hybrid and my fingers clenched convulsively on his sleeve.

The dark also allowed me a moment to truly appreciate the craziness. I was holding onto the arm of Klaus Mikaelson, following an assassin through subterranean tunnels beneath fifteenth century Constantinople. It was real. No doubt. That didn't make it any less insane.

The Black Box was going to totally reinvent my sense of perception before this was over. There were so many universes, so many possabilities I couldn't even begin to guess where we were going next. But I would have to be ready for it. For anything.

But for now. I was in a sewer.

That was my reality.

"Why are we down here?" I muttered, pitching my voice so that Ezio wouldn't overhear. But it was hard to tell how well sounds carried in the echoey tunnel. He could very easily be able to make out my barest whispers.

Klaus didn't respond right away, prompting me to add, "I mean, we're gone in four or so hours. So whatever is going on down here is none of our business."

"You would think . . . that if anyone would find herself interested in your doppelganger's motivations it would be you. Seeing as she's responsible for you getting your throat cut."

"We know why Ezio tried to kill her, thinking _**I**_ was . . . her," I whispered back, stumbling a bit. "And no, I don't care what she's doing. My point is that we're not staying. In a couple hours, we'll be gone. Whatever stunt Giovanna is pulling; stealing from the assassins and fleeing to Constantinople is her problem. Not ours."

I said this, tugging on his arm for emphasis.

This time, Klaus was quiet for so long I was sure he wouldn't answer. We were moving swiftly, sloshing through a foot of brackish water. Listening to Ezio's steps splash faintly ahead of us. He sounded like he was pulling away, getting further and further but I was confident he wouldn't lose us. The dark and echoes might confuse my senses, but he couldn't get away from Klaus.

Finally, "Aren't you the one who told me we had no purpose? That we leap from world to world, dragged helplessly along to the whims of a magical cube? You may not have noticed, but I don't do _'helpless'_ very well."

I had noticed. From all I knew of him; stuff picked up from the show, I should have been more concerned by Klaus' passiveness. He motivated when he needed to – case in point: torturing Ezio and healing me when I was dying in the street – but for the most part he just seemed to go along with whatever was happening. Useful when he felt like it.

All at once, I understood what he was saying. We had no purpose.

I was the one to tell him that. We had no real reason to be anywhere. We had nothing to do. We were here because this is where the Black Box dropped us.

I closed my eyes, wincing into Klaus' jacket.

"You're bored?" I gritted out. "We're helping Ezio find Giovanna because you need something to do?"

Not a bad idea, but maybe now wasn't the time to be looking to entertain himself. We were almost finished here! And I was still so, so tired.

A soft glow lit the tunnel, so soft at first that it was difficult to tell if my eyes were only playing tricks. But no. A few more steps and the shine grew brighter. More distinct. A flickering dance of light and shadow shining off the moisture on the walls. And Ezio. Not as far ahead as I first thought, suddenly coming into focus against the backdrop of torchlight.

I looked down, surprised to see orange currents firing in the water around my legs. Reflected torchlight. I could see.

Awkwardly, aware that I'd been holding onto Klaus' arm for a while I let go of his sleeve and he pulled ahead without a word. I chewed on my bottom lip and followed as stealthily as I could. My shoe caught in a deposit of mud, tripping me up and I splashed loudly. So much for quiet.

We came out into a smaller chamber, with a hissing torch stuck into the crevice in a wall. The firelight blinding after total darkness, but still a relief.

"Quiet, now," Ezio cautioned us. "The Ottomans are near, and none to kind to trespassers."

"There are other people down here?" I whispered.

Ezio nodded, his hood rustling with the motion.

I swallowed hard and inched closer to the doorway leading out into a wider cavern. Looked around. "Are they working for Giovanna?"

"No," he said. "Constantinople is the capitol of the Ottoman occupation. The city is overrun, and so is the underground. Those who are here have little to do with the theft that drove Giovanna to this city. She seeks the _Masyaf_ keys, and nothing else. The Ottomans are here for reasons that have little to do with Giovanna."

"What makes you think they aren't here for the same reason?" Klaus said. "These Keys a girl would risk the wrath of a guild of assassin's to acquire must be valuable . . ."

He let it hang, a hint of menace coloring his voice. The assassin appeared not to even notice the threat, as he moved to peek out into the cavern. I looked too, surprised to discover we were actually several feet in the air. Fifty, maybe sixty feet above the two men and their tiny little fire. There were people down there! The fire must have been to cope with the damp chill of the underground, because it smoked so heavily that fumes were filling the cave. There was no ventilation, of course. Nowhere for the smoke to go, but the ceiling where it coalesced into a swirling black mass of noxious cloud.

Without a word of warning to either of us, Ezio leaped into the open. I gasped but before the breath was even properly out of my throat, he'd already extended one arm and caught a hold of a crossbeam with a small iron hook sprung from his sleeve. He lifted himself up with impressive swiftness, showing no strain from the numerous wounds he'd sustained courtesy of Klaus' irritable bout of questioning.

An icy draft prickled over my skin, raising the little hairs on my arms and the back of my neck. I placed my hand on my satchel. The weight of the Black Cube inside a comfort I needed just then. Klaus moved up next to me.

"You going after him?" I said.

Klaus just slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans and stood back, allowing Ezio a chance to show what he could do. Ezio swung swiftly around the two Ottoman soldiers bellow us, ignoring them so long as they remained unaware of him. He was across the cavern in seconds, where he dropped down to the ground and turned back to look at us. A clear invitation to follow.

Klaus snickered. Unimpressed. Maybe amused.

I dropped down to my knees, my pants already soaked through with sewer water so I couldn't get any wetter, and peered straight down the length of the wall. Fifty or so feet of damp brick and a solid stone floor. I couldn't fly like Ezio so I was at a loss. How was I supposed to follow?

Another icy cold breeze swirled, chilling me straight through. Frowning, I glanced at my satchel. Was that the Box? No . . . it couldn't be . . . we still had hours before it activated.

Strong hands closed over my shoulders, lifting me up off the ground.

"Would you stand up, already," Klaus said. "You spend more time on your knees than on your feet."

I . . . oh. I blushed, flushing what must have been scarlet as my mind went in a totally inappropriate direction. Klaus needed to work on his wording. So embarrassed I thought my face might catch fire, I tugged out of his hands. He let me go, but not far. Before I could even think to voice a protest, strong arms came around my waist. Holding me tightly – securely – and launched us off the ledge.

We fell fifty feet in a fraction of a second, Klaus' vampire speed more than I could make sense of so from my perspective, it felt like we teleported! My elbow landed in his stomach, and he let me go. Chuckling. I whirled dizzily away from him, colliding with a wooden beam and tilted my head back to look at the small spot of light we'd just come from.

"Not. Funny." I glowered.

"I got us down," he said, cutting a totally unapologetic smirk. "Would you have preferred to wait?"

No. I drew a shaky breath, and swallowed the bout of nausea experiencing that sort of speed did to my equilibrium. No. I wanted to go with them, down beneath the city to find Giovanna or whatever else there was. Partly because I was afraid of losing Klaus, if he didn't come back before our timer hit zero . . . but also because despite what I said to him earlier, I _**was**_ interested.

I wanted to meet myself.

And I was quite possibly the only person who had the opportunity to do exactly that. Who was she that she'd done all these things without ever being caught? If she was exactly me, just one born into an alternate universe, then that strength had to be a part of me, too. Didn't it? I wanted to believe I could be smart enough for people to call an enchantress. Brave enough to stroll into a den of assassins and manipulate their leader. Pretty enough not to be suspect.

I opened my mouth, intending to share those thoughts with Klaus . . . but not actually sure if I would have said anything if he hadn't put his finger to his own lips. Motioning for silence. I clamped my mouth shut and peeked around the beam where I stood. Ice continued to crawl over my skin, distracting me but I saw what he wanted.

The men at the fire were talking. Talking carelessly, making no effort to hide their presence. They were comfortable down here. Not afraid of being discovered and I wasn't so new at journeying that I couldn't recognize the danger in that. If they were safe, it meant they _**owned**_ these sewers.

As if in response to my thoughts, one of the men lamented, "Do you know how long we've been searching this filthy cistern? Thirteen months! Ever since the Grand Master found that damned key."

Key?

Key.

The thing Giovanna was after. What Ezio wanted, too, though he hadn't said it in so many words. Klaus was right. The Ottomans and Giovanna were both searching for the same thing.

Cold, cold power coursed over my skin. Stinging. Crystals of ice forming, frosting the soft leather of my satchel and I finally took real notice of what was happening down there. Something unexpected and uncontrolled. My heart pounded, confusion swamping whatever else I might have been feeling. Not caring if the men around their smoky little fire might hear, I scrabbled at my satchel's flap to open the bag and pull out the Box.

Klaus saw what I was doing and yanked my sack around, flipping it open with hands that weren't shaking. I grabbed my Black Box, pulling it out from foil packets of stolen granola bars and minute rice and baggies of oatmeal flakes. The sides were smooth and glossy, while still managing not to reflect any light. Black as void. I pressed my hands on either side, holding my breath as a spray of silvery stars erupted from its centre.

**2-22-01**

**2-21-59**

**2-21-58 . . .**

"Two hours left," I whispered. Relief mingled with bewilderment. My fingers burned from the searing cold emanating from the Box. It felt . . . I was _**sure**_ it was about to spirit us away and I must not have been the only one. I became aware of Klaus holding onto my shoulder with enough force to bend the bones. He didn't want to be left behind.

"Two hours," I said again, looking Klaus straight in the eye. "I don't understand what's happening."

He frowned and glanced away, sharp eyes catching Ezio's nearly invisible figure waiting for us across the huge room. Or, what did the other man call it? A cistern?

Cold wind whirled invisibly around us, strongly enough so that it stirred the flames of the small fire a few yards in.

"Amanda . . ."

Klaus, sounding distinctly unhappy. I gritted my teeth and looked at the Box in my hands.

_**2-19-48 . . .**_

No. No, those numbers weren't wrong. I knew what I was looking at. The Box's countdown clock. We still had two hours! Why was it activating now?

Confusion turned with denial; this was my one certainty. My absolute. I didn't ask for this new life, didn't want and was doing my best to adjust and accept it. Having the one thing I was sure of suddenly break on me was quite a shock, and I glanced helplessly up at Klaus. Demanding answers from him, as if he didn't know less than I did about how all this worked.

"We're going," I said. Static snapped around our bodies, the crash of Universes passing too near each other, opening that brief window where we could pass through. Like throwing out a grappling hook to a passing ship . . . that's what the Box was doing.

Klaus didn't question. His hand stayed firm on my shoulder. Searing hot next to the bitter cold created by the Box's power. Ice frosted in my hair.

"You!" a shout, startling both of us. I spun around, feeling my eyes widen at the sight of the two armed Ottoman . . . men. They'd seen us. Or heard us. Whatever, they were aware of Klaus and I lingering in the shadows and now were looking _**right at us**_. Scrambling off the ground, drawing weapons. Drink canisters tossed aside. "Stand! Stay where you are, trespassers."

"No way," I said.

Power flared in a current so powerful it drew at my insides, pulling me inward. Compressing my body in a familiar rush of cold.

Two things happened, then. The first was that my vision blinked out, turning black as I was pulled out of the world where I stood.

The second is that Klaus' hand vanished from my shoulder.

He was gone. Niklaus Mikaelson. My only companion.

I was alone.

We should still have had two hours . . . my Box . . .


	17. Chapter 16 - Giovanna - Part 1

**_*It goes without saying that The Originals and every other film, book or franchise that will be mentioned in this fanfiction belong to their respectful owners. I claim no ownership or association to any of the many "universes" that will be visited in this fanfiction.*_**

**Chapter 16**

**GIOVANNA – Part 1**

* * *

". . . we must live with our consequences, whether glorious or tragic."

– **Ezio Auditore Da Firenze**

_Assassin's Creed: Revelations (2011)_

* * *

_**POV - Klaus**_

He felt her body dissolve beneath his hands. Vanishing so suddenly it was as if she simply blinked out of existence. He supposed she had, in a sense. Amanda was gone. He hadn't seen it from this perspective before, always being _**inside**_ the terrible swell of power dragging them from one universe into another.

Watching it happen without him was a rather underwhelming experience.

Far more exciting from the inside, feeling the energies crash and collide. The rip and tear as your body was dragged through some invisible divide.

Klaus understood quite a bit more than he'd allowed Amanda to think he did.

It was to his benefit to let her believe what she needed, while quietly learning what he could about this small blonde girl with the bright gray eyes. He still expected some trick to reveal itself. He would not be surprised to discover he was caught in some fantastic hallucination concocted by one of his many enemies to keep him distracted and confused.

However, the longer that it went on, the more he started to accept the idea this might be exactly what Amanda said it was. Real.

Klaus sensed no deception.

He'd tried. He really did try to find the lie in her worlds, but if she _**was**_ manipulating him then she possessed a skill for lying that surpassed even his own tremendous experience. No. As far as he could tell, she was honest with him. Her sincerity genuine. Amanda told him what he needed to know – desperate that he understand what was happening to the both of them – but never pushing him to believe her.

She did not force him and _**that**_ had won her his restraint.

He would wait and see what came next; prepared for treachery. Anticipating the sharp satisfaction of watching those who would destroy him fail. He would kill Amanda without hesitation should she move against him.

Only now she was gone.

He was alone in a universe that was not his own, with no way to escape it. Amanda took the Black Cube with her when she disappeared. He was alone . . . abandoned.

Fury rose quickly, molten heat rolling beneath his skin. A beast inside of him, snapping and frothing. Clawing at the underside of his skin. Blood swelled the veins around his eyes. A pleasant buzz that sparkled through his entire body; combining with his furious rage to become a sensation that was nearly orgasmic it felt so good.

Rage.

"_Dur!" _shouted by the ottoman soldiers charging toward him, demanding that he stay where he was. Their voices carried in the cavernous room, echoing sharply off distant walls. _"Buraya gelmek kimlerdir?__ Olduğun yerde kal!"_

Oh, he had no intention of fleeing. Bloodlust coursed through his veins, filling his vision with a reddish haze. He fought the fury, forcing that delicious anger to recede rather than allow himself to be swept up. But the desire for violence? For hot, rich blood the only thing that could sate this terrible hunger? He made no effort to restrain himself, there.

He welcomed it.

The first of the two men reached him, shouting at him to surrender and encouraged by Klaus' silence. They thought he was obeying their commands. Without uttering a sound to warn of what he intended, Klaus' hand shot out.

His fist broke through bone and muscle, pulverizing the chest cavity with a sound like wood.

_**Crunch!**_

The noise a macabre echo. Sound flying away, to return a moment later. Mocking them. Klaus didn't bother to reach for the pulsing heart. There was no need. The body of the man slumped forward, life evaporating along with that final wheezing gasp. A breath of air leaving the lungs.

The second soldier skidded to a stop only a foot behind his dead comrade. Face bleached ashen from a combination of terrified disbelief. He stared at the body of his friend, unable to understand exactly what just happened. Not yet aware that he was dead, just that he'd fallen forward and that awful crunching sound still knocking off the walls.

Now Klaus looked up. The veins around his eyes engorged. The surviving soldier saw that, of course. It would have been impossible not to notice eyes glowing brilliant amber in the darkness.

"_Iblis. Aman Tanrim. Iblis_!"

Accustomed to being called a monster, this amused Klaus more than anything. These ottomans had less imagination than Ezio had demonstrated; reducing him to a simple _'demon'_ rather than the _**devil**_ the assassin believed him to be.

The man proceeded to babble in terror. Having convinced himself that he now faced a real demon risen from the bowels of hell, he surrendered to his fear. _"Uzak dur. Benden uzak tutun."_

"Keep away?" Klaus echoed, musing. He jerked his fist out of the corpse's chest, letting the body collapse in a heap. "That's what you have? To keep the monsters away, you only just have ask them. In the history of the world, has that ever worked?"

Out of spite, Klaus said this in English rather than the native Turkish. There was no understanding in the ottoman's expression, though there was no need to translate the deliberate menace in Klaus' voice. The predatory shin in his golden eyes. Or to mistake the lengthening of fangs in his mouth.

No. No translation needed there.

In a futile attempt to save himself, it finally occurred to the man to run. He turned and fled as quickly as his feet would take him, managing quite a bit of distance but only because Klaus didn't immediately rush after him.

Give the man a moment to think he was really getting away. Let him feel that flicker of tentative hope . . . and then snatch it from him.

Excitement seared the hybrid, nearly driving him to give chase too soon. But then he spotted Ezio. Still across the gargantuan cistern, expertly hidden within the shadows he watched with fixed interest at what was happening.

Klaus smirked, encouraged by his audience.

His fangs were too long for him to comfortably close his mouth and he enjoyed that, too. Knowing that his teeth were obvious. He couldn't hide them, so long as they were extended and it made him feel even more powerful. The bloodthirsty beast inside of him riding him hard. So close to the surface he could feel it pressing up against his skin.

That delicious heat.

He couldn't wait anymore. A blur of vampiric speed and the human was caught. He squealed, locked in the hybrid's arms. Tremendous strength impossible to break from. He was doomed and now, in that last second, he knew it absolutely.

Klaus' teeth tore into his throat, piercing through flesh and the tougher outer shell of the large artery that pulsed and released a hot rush of blood in a wasteful spray. Klaus drank deeply, guzzling blood right up until the heart stopped . . .

Momentarily sated and nearly delirious from the euphoric rush of feeding, Klaus sighed. He let the body drop to the ground. Blood dribbled crimson from his chin, and he licked at the thick liquid. Savoring the moment for as long as he could. It was done. And now that it was over the pleasure quickly faded, leaving him feeling – as ever – hollow inside. Empty. All the warmth seeping out of him so that he felt even colder than he did before.

Like an addict with a fix. The high was never long enough and it emptied him out, until he felt like a shell of himself. Craving more. More just to feel that rush again.

Footsteps sounded from behind. Ezio, coming to meet him now that he was calmer.

Klaus closed his eyes and tilted his face up, breathing in the damp, mildewed air. His sense of smell was sharper than those of other vampires – a gift of his werewolf heritage.

He could smell the blood smearing his face the strongest, but also the scents of a dozen humans who had passed through this room, leaving their individual traces on the air. On the stones and the damp wood brought in from above.

The assassin smelled of his homeland. All golden wheat and salt and wind.

Amanda's scent lingered, though it had already started to fade with her absence. All traces of her disappearing from this world now that she'd left it. _**Her**_ scent was harder to name. Cinnamon and black pepper, he thought. But that wasn't exactly right.

"I called you devil," Ezio said quietly, breaking the terse silence. "To drink the blood of the living, what are you if not damned? To feed on the very essence of life."

Klaus didn't respond. He kept his eyes closed, face tilted up. His sharp hearing picking the sounds of scurrying insects and the hiss of rats. The steady drip-drip-drip of moisture. Human voices, faint with distance. Insulated and distorted by thick, heavy walls and tunnels that echoed and confused the senses. Klaus frowned, trying to work through the muffling effect of being underground.

"The girl is gone," Ezio, again, pressing him. Pushing dangerously against Klaus' volatility. Baiting him, or else just unaware of how close the hybrid was skating the razor's edge. "I saw what happened, though I confess I do not understand. I can avoid being seen, if I wish. But to disappear entirely . . ."

Klaus turned around, eyes flashing brightly. Ezio didn't flinch but he couldn't stop the skip to his pulse. His courage was unquestionable, but it took quite a bit more to remain stoic in the presence of a devil. It would have been such a simple thing to grab the assassin, throw back that heavy hood and plunge his fangs into the man's throat. Hunger gnawed; Klaus hadn't fed nearly enough these past few days . . . but Ezio might still be useful.

"The girl is gone, _maestro_," Ezio said again. "What do you wish to do? Should we continue after Giovanna or no?"

The cold hole in Klaus' chest tightened. He looked at the bloody body crumpled on the ground at his feet. Felt the blood sour in his stomach. Amanda was gone. Only her scent remained, wafting enticingly on the cool air but even that would fade into nothing before too long. He curled his lip.

"Yes," Klaus said. He hardened his voice and said again, "Yes. Take me to her. Giovanna Pellegrini. Your fierce little enchantress."

Ezio bowed his head, Klaus' earlier compulsion directing his obedience and both men crossed to a small iron door in the recess between two immense pillars. He would find this girl for the same reason as he originally intended. As before, it was only a lack of anything better to do.

A slow, hard anger seethed just beneath the surface of Klaus' calm.

* * *

**BONUS: **_**I'm not 100% sure what language the Ottomans in sixteenth century Constantinople would have been speaking, since the Ottoman empire extended pretty far and according to Wikipedia they spoke a variety of Turkish that borrowed extensively from Arabic and Persian languages. Because of that, I felt that the two Ottoman soldiers Klaus murdered in the cistern beneath Constantinople would have been speaking straight Turkish rather than a bastardized version. I was not going to try and find the exact dialect. So of course this will make for a historical error, since I translated the men Klaus murdered, but this is the best I can do. :P**_

**TURKISH:**

**#1 –** _"Dur! Buraya gelmek kimlerdir?__ Olduğun yerde kal!"_ translates to _"Stop! Who are you to come here? Stay where you are!" _(Ottoman soldiers running towards Klaus)

**#2 – **_"Iblis. Aman Tanrim. Iblis!"_ translates to _"Demon. Oh god. Demon!" _(After Klaus kills one soldier, and looks at the other with glowing amber eyes.)

**#3 –** _"Uzak dur. Benden uzak tutun." _translates to"_Keep away. Keep away from me."_ (Right before the surviving soldier decides to run away from Klaus)

**ITALIAN:**

**#4 –** "The girl is gone, _maestro_," translates to "The girl is gone, _master_."


	18. Chapter 17 - Giovanna - Part 2

**_*It goes without saying that The Originals and every other film, book or franchise that will be mentioned in this fanfiction belong to their respectful owners. I claim no ownership or association to any of the many "universes" that will be visited in this fanfiction.*_**

**Chapter 17**

**GIOVANNA – Part 2**

* * *

"People desire the truth, yes, but even when they have it, they refuse to look.

How do we fight this kind of ignorance?"

– **Ahmet**to**Ezio**

_Assassin's Creed: Revelations (2011)_

* * *

_**POV – Amanda**_

Everything hurt.

My body was so sore; as if I were recovering from a fever. Just achy all over. And I was thirsty. My throat and tongue sticky. A foul taste in my mouth. I'd gotten sick. My mess a small puddle on the floor over in a corner, and splattered a little on the wall.

Probably a good thing I hadn't eaten very much in a while but being hungry and then being violently sick left me dizzy. My head floating, weightless on my shoulders.

Because of that, I was on the ground. Sitting with my back to a wall. Resting.

What happened to me? I remembered standing next to Klaus, shivering with cold as the Black Box swelled with icy power. Tidal forces crashing all around us. I could still feel the warm weight of his hand on my shoulder, holding tightly to me. The terrible sensation of losing that weight, and being drawn into the cascading power of the Box.

I'd known it. There was not a single doubt in my mind what'd happened.

I lost him. For whatever reason, Klaus was left behind.

But that wasn't supposed to happen! He was hanging on. So long as he was touching me, the Box should have pulled him through, too.

Losing Klaus wasn't even the most frightening part. In nine jumps, from the moment the Box abducted me from my own home universe, not once had the transition between universes been that _**violent**_! It didn't feel normal. I'd come to expect the gut-wrenching feeling of being pulled inward and forward. It's why I called it an implosion. A miniature black hole inside of me, pulling everything in so forcefully I almost expected pain . . . but it never hurt.

This was _**nothing**_ like those other times.

I would have screamed in terror while inside the vortex. Just this incredible power pulling at me, tugging in every direction and I'd thought it would rip my body apart. That there would be pieces of me flung into different universes. And when I landed, falling to my knees in this place my stomach had turned itself inside out.

I'd gotten so, so sick. Hacking up foul-tasting bile into the corner until there was nothing left. Weak with tears streaming over my cheeks I collapsed on the floor and stayed there. The Black Box resting in my lap. I was afraid to touch it.

I was scared to leave it there. Scared to move it off of me.

I looked around to find I myself in a small room. All damp stone. Very dark. Taller than it was wide, like being locked in a storage closet. Little blossoms of pain flared between my shoulders. My lower back. My stomach cramped and I was almost sick again. I swallowed and breathed deeply, needing to get my act together. I had to get up. Get moving.

I had no idea where I was and I was alone. A dangerous combination. The air smelled damp. Cold against my skin and my jeans were still soaked from the sewers. I was shivering. My satchel was still hooked over my shoulder, but because I was on the floor the bag was sort of crumpled in a heap by my hip.

The Black Box, reflecting none of the meager light available in the room, stayed still and ominous. I had a sleeping dragon in my lap. I picked the Box up and pressed both hands against its sides, bringing up the timer. An eruption of silver stars, so bright they didn't look like little lights. They actually looked like real _**stars**_ – great balls of ignited gases burning great cosmic fires. And the clock: **0-40-11**

Forty minutes.

I sighed. Okay.

No creepy cold static crackling from the Box. No vertigo-lift sensation tugging at my organs. Where I should still have had two hours on the clock before, now I . . . I felt firmly grounded in this world. It was a relief. I didn't understand why the clock had been so wrong. Why the Box malfunctioned the way it had. It was terrifying imagining that might happen again.

Where was I?

The taste of the air was familiar. Identical to the last world. The same taste on my tongue when I breathed it in. Mildew. Damp. Slightly rank sewer air. I didn't dare to hope, but maybe . . . maybe I was still . . . maybe I hadn't lost Klaus . . .

This really felt like a tiny side-room. A large iron door; rust flaking off the hinges seemed to be the only way out. I pulled myself off the floor and took the couple of steps needed to get there. Tugged on the latch and pushed the door open with the highest-pitch creak I'd ever heard. Oh, my god. I winced, gritting my teeth at the awful sound. It rattled my skeleton.

A fresher breeze wafted in, smelling less like spoiled sewer water. It wasn't a great improvement, the air still smelled green but it was easier to breathe. Not quite so thick in the lungs. And then I saw why.

Sunlight.

Real, buttery yellow sunlight shining down from high above. I was underground, in a small cavern of rough stone but the ceiling had openings allowing air and light to come through. The light was strong enough so that there was actual grass and green moss growing on the stone and brick pillars. Not slime or algae. _**Moss.**_

Awed, I stepped out. My shoes splashing in shallow puddles.

As far as I could tell, I was alone. There were no sounds of people. No impression of bodies hiding in the shadows. It felt good. Quiet. I had a second to just appreciate the sun and the silence. The drip of moisture. A crystalline tinkling. Water.

In the centre of the cave, rising dramatically up from the water was the statue of a man. Not huge. He was just a little larger than life-size and he was very obviously the point of this place.

The statue wore a stone hood, pulled low over his eyes. Something very similar to what Ezio wore. I moved closer. The sun shone brilliantly on the back of the statue's head, causing the most magnificent optical illusion. It made the stone-man look alive. As if he was watching me; the folds of his hood rippling as he turned his head. Following my movements.

A chill rolled up the back of my neck.

There was a bag propped up at the statue's feet. I blinked, surprised by the very modern thing just sitting there. A dark green backpack, with plastic buckles and a mesh pocket on the side to stick a water bottle in.

. . . what?

I knew I needed to get moving. But that was weird. The bag might have been dropped there by someone I used to go to school with. I cast another quick look around, unconsciously shrinking back into the shadows but there was still no one. I was alone.

Alone.

Oh, Klaus. My heart ached. He was the only person I had, the only one who might have been a part of my life and I'd lost him. Loneliness cut like a knife. Honestly, we weren't even friends. We were strangers thrown together; two people who could not have been more different. He was a killer. I was just a girl.

That didn't make losing him hurt any less.

I walked over to the tall statue and knelt down. With hands that shook from weakness, I tugged the backpack open. Having to struggle a little with a plastic zipper that caught on a piece of loose string. Again, the backpack looked so much like something I would have bought at my local Wal-Mart back home that I was genuinely startled to open it and _**not**_ find school books inside or even that stuffing paper stores put in there sometimes, so that their display bags didn't look all squished.

No books, but the bag wasn't empty.

It was filled with tiny little packets of silver foil. Foodstuffs? They looked a lot like the granola bars I had in my own satchel, only flat and wide instead of bar-shaped. I picked one out and turned it over in my hands. In tiny print on the bottom, not written in ink but actually stamped straight into the foil, were the letters: **MRE-221**

Yeah. No.

I let the packet drop back into the bag. Noticed clothes neatly folded in the bottom. A pair of khaki pants and several sweaters. A military-issue water canister, with a screw top.

My stomach pitched and rolled; nausea rolling heat through my body. Sick rose so high into my throat that I could taste it on my tongue. I swallowed again and again, forcing it back down. Sweat beading on my forehead. Breathing harsh. I was going to be sick . . . again . . .

Slowly . . . slowly . . . the burn faded. My stomach settled.

I was okay. No, I really wasn't.

It wasn't normal to feel this bad.

"That was quite a bit rougher than I intended. I only meant to get you by yourself, so that we could talk in private."

My head came up, the room tilting wildly. Dizziness swamped my brain to where I nearly fell to the floor. But it passed quickly; my body already starting to throw off the worst of the sickness twisting my gut. Through the buzzing in my ears, I could make out the sound of footsteps coming up behind me.

I braced myself and stood up. Wobbled just a little. Turned around . . .

There she was. Me. Her. Us.

I felt a shock of recognition, but also this incredible relief. I'd thought meeting her – meeting myself born in another universe – would be like looking in a mirror. That she would be my exact duplicate. But she wasn't.

Physically, she was more _**me**_ than an identical twin would have been. A slender girl, medium-height with soft gray eyes and a sweep of wheat-blonde hair. Hair a little longer than mine, it fell over her shoulders like liquid gold spilled over porcelain but . . . the shape of her face. Her eyes. Her lips. She had narrow hands and long fingers. I saw that the pinkie on her left was a little crooked from where I broke it as a kid. Exactly like mine. Eerily identical detail.

Our bodies were exactly the same.

The look in her eyes . . . there was no me, there. Cunning. Hard. The way she tilted her head, letting her hair fall forward like I did but for a different reason. Not hiding her face. She was beautiful. She was bold. Confident and independent. She was the kind of woman who could walk into a den of assassins like it was nothing and manipulate them all.

The differences between us, so subtle but striking threw me. I was confused. And from the way Ezio described her – seductive, intelligent, a highborn Italian woman – I expected to turn around and find her in a jewel-colored gown and soft slippers.

None of that. We were in a damp cave, and she wearing practical khaki and tough combat boots. She looked more like _Indiana Jones_ than a mysterious enchantress. She looked like she was off to explore some ancient ruin deep in the jungle. Or unearth the secrets of the pyramids.

A tight smile twisted her expression and I flushed. Warmth heating my cheeks. I was staring at her, making no effort to look like I wasn't. But what was I supposed to say?

"Those are just rations," the girl said, tilting her chin to indicate the packets inside her backpack. "They taste like grass but contain all the vitamins, minerals and proteins necessary to keep the body functioning at peak performance. I stole them. They were worth the risk."

That . . . that . . . what?

"Giovanna?" I asked, cautiously.

She nodded. Offered a rueful little smile. "I have a lot of names."

I imagined she did. "What did you do? Where am I?"

"Not far from where you were," Giovanna assured me. She placed her hands on her hips, and looked around the cavern. "I really only wanted to talk to you. Granted, snatching you up the way I did might not have been the best method, but I wasn't sure how to get you away from your vampire long enough."

"It was you. You did this? How did you . . . how did you switch on my Box?"

"You have a Box?" Giovanna asked. Her eyes lit, the gray in them sparkling almost blue. Without thinking I placed my hand over the hard square hidden inside my satchel. Giovanna's gaze followed the motion. "Is it in there? Can I see it?"

No.

Distrust burned like a bad taste in my mouth. I didn't want to tell her anything, didn't even want to talk to her but at the same time I was drawn. Fascinated by her. She was like looking at myself, through someone else's eyes. How many people get the chance to see themselves from the outside? I wanted to trust her.

I couldn't. Not even Klaus was trustworthy, and he was all I . . . had . . . a frisson rolled up my spine. I swallowed hard, again having to push the nausea down. Sweat broke out, hot and uncomfortable. Giovanna must have seen it; the way I paled or got flush. I couldn't tell which it was. But she saw something of what I was feeling and a flicker of uncertainty passed over her expression.

"Are you hungry?"

I stumbled back, scrabbling out of her way as she hurried up to where I was standing. Paying no real attention to how I responded to her nearness, Giovanna knelt down and opened her backpack. Pulled out one of the silver foil packets and held it out to me. "Go on. I have plenty."

I made no move to take it.

She allowed a few seconds to pass, and then shrugged. "Alright. But you really should eat. I know getting you here the way I did was rough, but you shouldn't have been sick like that."

Giovanna tossed the silver packet at my feet, and it hit the water with a small _**plop**_! Light glinted of the foil. I wanted to leave it there – show her that I wasn't bothered by her presence; that I needed nothing from her. My stomach cramped, calling me a liar. In two days . . . what had I eaten? A raisin granola bar. Was that it? And a soda, back in that empty world. Some bread I shared with Klaus a day before that.

Was that it? No wonder I got sick.

She was watching me. Giovanna. She watched me struggle to make a decision, and for the first time I thought she might have been measuring me, too. As unsettled as I was, by this girl who looked like her but wasn't. Trying to find how much of herself there was in me.

"You're new," she said. A slow smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Oh, how did I not see it? You're so ill-prepared. I should have realized. How long has it been since you started travelling?"

Another shiver rolled beneath my skin, crackling like static up the length of my spine to pool at the base of my skull. This time having nothing to do with nausea; I had no idea how to respond to that deliberate interest. I couldn't deny. Couldn't play like I didn't know what she meant.

The truth just sort of . . . came out, "Eleven days."

It felt longer. It wasn't. I got swept up eleven days ago.

"Not long at all," Giovanna said, sounding almost pitying. "If you want my advice, find supplies wherever you can as often as the opportunity presents itself. You'll never regret having what you need."

"I know that," I said. "I mean, I know that! You're not from this world either, are you? The way you're dressed and the way you talk, you sound more like me. How the hell did you convince a group of Italian assassin's that you were from Italy?"

Giovanna laughed at that. She threw back her head and laughed. It was an easy, happy sound that slipped smoothly from her lips and was entirely too deliberate. I narrowed my eyes.

"I've been travelling since I was thirteen," she told me. "In the beginning, I would find myself in a new place every few hours. But unlike you, I didn't have a powerful vampire for protection. I learned very quickly to blend into my environment. I had to."

She didn't ask me how I knew she'd been to Italy. Didn't ask about the assassins or give any evidence she was surprised by my mention of them. Anger burned like a smoldering coal. Ezio _**cut my throat**_, thinking I was her. If she knew that, she hid it well. But she clearly understood what was happening in the city and the dangerous situation her actions in Italy had placed her in.

She was calm . . . calm almost to the point of serene . . . because she knew she was safe. Safe because not even the most dedicated assassin could follow her into another universe. It was the exact same certainty that I relied on to stay sane. They could not follow.

"You were thirteen?" I asked, hoping for more.

Giovanna allowed a small, humorless smile to slip free. "I've been at this for four years. Jumping universes. Never knowing where I would land next, but trying to prepare myself for whatever I might find on the other side. It . . . gets easier. Small comfort. You'll get to the point where you stop anticipating _**home**_ being your next stop."

I didn't respond. But the idea that Giovanna had been at this for four years – for the first time I could feel a flicker of sympathy for her. For the thirteen year old girl swept up and slowly, eventually, losing all hope.

I took a steadying breath. "How . . ."

Giovanna lifted her brows, encouraging me to go on.

"How did you get your Cube? What are the odds that . . . that two versions of us would end up . . . like this?"

She was silent a moment. Thinking. Considering me.

"You have a cube?"

Excitement fairly crackled forcing me to take another cautious step back. Not looking where I was going, the heel of my ankle boot knocked against a broken stone. One of the many cracked and crumbling pieces of pillars strewn about. Water sloshed up the faux-leather side and spilled right into my shoe, soaking my sock.

Giovanna didn't even wait for me to respond. Yanking her backpack open, nearly tearing off the buckle in her haste she chattered excitedly on, "Mine is a pyramid. I can't believe you have a Cube! I knew there were other devices out there, but it never even occurred to me that they came in different shapes. What do you think that means? A Cube is a three-dimensional square. It completely throws my theory off kilter but that's fine. I think I get it now. Makes more sense this way."

"Whoa," I breathed. "Wait. Wait! Stop. What are you –"

She spun around, pulling a large jet-black object from her bag. She held it up for me to see and my heart skipped a beat. Literally. A hiccup in my chest. In her hands was a perfect pyramid as black and void as the space between the stars. It gave the impression of being polished to a mirror-shine but no light reflected off its surface. Because no light could. The pyramid absorbed it with the same monstrous, inescapable force of a black hole.

Exactly like my Black Box. My Cube.

I was shaking. It took me a moment to notice. Tiny little tremors that tightened the muscles all through my body. My mouth had gone dry.

Reeling at the sight of that pyramid-shaped piece of void she held in her hands no thought went into what I did next. I slipped my hand into my satchel and pulled out my Box. Brought it up for Giovanna to see; my fingers pale as bone against the emptiness I held in my hands.

Giovanna seemed as awed by my cube as I felt at the sight of her pyramid. They were the same size. Her pyramid was made up of four triangle-sides descending into a square base. Giovanna turned her pyramid over, showing me the square bottom and it was like an icicle pierced my heart with cold. The bottom was _**exactly**_ the same size as any of the square sides of my cube.

"A piece broke off," she whispered. "Is it possible that what I have is only a piece that broke off of a complete cube?" Our eyes met. "Is the cube the proper shape?"

"No." I shook my head. "No. Look at it. Your pyramid is perfect. That would mean that my cube is solid straight through. How can a piece of . . . of machine just be solid like that?"

Would explain why the Black Box was so heavy, though. It was solid.

"Are you serious?" she shot back. "You thought your device was a machine, like a television or a radio? What, that there were wires and chips and a motherboard inside of it?"

My temper snapped, whipping like a lose cable I only just managed to catch before I said something regrettable. Not an easy thing to do. I was afraid. Confused. But also excited. I felt _**answers**_ pressing in, filling the cave with whispers I could almost hear. And this girl next to me – me – had the key to hearing some of those secret voices.

She knew things. More than she'd said.

More than she would share?

"Who are you?" I whispered. I returned my Black Box to the safety of my satchel, and Giovanna blinked rapidly as if coming back to herself. Her mind a million miles away, churning over thoughts. New considerations.

"I thought you knew," she said. "I'm you."

"No. I mean, how is it possible?"

A smile. Giovanna replaced her pyramid in her bag and yanked on the drawstring. Closing the whole thing up with a flip of the top flap, where the clicked the buckle to secure it. She did it all very fast. Very efficient. Like a girl who was ready to get going.

"How much do you understand?" she said. "Your Cube allows you to slip between alternate universes, yes? And that there are an infinite number of worlds."

I nodded, to show that this was something I already knew.

"Think of what I just said. An _**infinite**_ series of alternate universe. With a never-ending number of realities that exist, patterns will repeat themselves. That's what we are, you and I. Quite literally a pattern that has repeated itself. It was just the odds coming around again so that the exact same series of genes were coded from DNA that was identical. The same two people in both worlds making a baby. The exact same egg and seed, I imagine. It sounds ridiculous saying it out loud, but that's why you won't find copies of us in every universe. A pattern will repeat itself if the odds are large enough, but it doesn't happen every single time."

My head was spinning. Dizziness and lingering nausea and the sheer magnitude of this discovery. Of being told – out loud – something I knew but hadn't really had time to think about.

Patterns. Patterns. In my mind, I pictured domino's falling over and every now and then, one tiny plastic rectangle falling crooked. Sticking out from the giant mural.

I squeezed my eyes shut, struggling just to breathe. "What do you want with me?"

"Hmm?"

"You quite literally abducted me. You separated Klaus and I, but didn't bring me to a new world. I'm still in the same universe. The same place. Why?"

"Because you're the first copy of myself I've found," she got out. "Do you understand how incredible it was for me, when I saw you? I knew you weren't from this place. I felt the energy crack when you came through the barrier. Right away, the second it happened I knew you were like me. Call me sentimental. I wanted to meet you."

She had control over her pyramid I couldn't even imagine. She couldn't have some secret power of her own, so it had to have been the Black Pyramid that did it. Somehow hijacking the power of my Box's countdown to . . . teleport . . . me here.

I tilted my face up, feeling tiny prickles of condensation cold against my warm face. Moisture like drizzle flurrying from above. I forced myself to relax enough to inhale deeply. Damp. Wet rock. Soggy moss and sunlight. That's what the cave smelled like.

"I don't want to go home," Giovanna muttered, surprising me.

I glanced at her, to find she was already staring back. A daring little smile played over her expression. "Where I come from, we've been at war for near-on two hundred years. I had no life there. No hope for better. Finding my pyramid was a blessing."

Giovanna shook her head, causing her long blonde hair to gleam and shimmer. Like liquid sunlight in the pale shine coming down from above. Tiny little openings in the cave ceiling, allowing natural light to filter through in sunny white beams.

"My pyramid came to me because I needed it. Remember, I said that I found it sitting out in the open in a field. Like it was placed there just for me. I don't think our devices are just pieces of unidentifiable stone. I've suspected for a while that they might have the ability to choose. Consciousness? No. They aren't alive, see. But none of it is random."

Her eyes gleamed. I swear. A trick of the light, the tilt of her head. Sunlight refracting off the soft gray of her eyes – the pigment identical to mine. Having settled exactly the same as in my eyes. Her eyes were like glass. Crystal gleaming in the pale light.

"Can I tell you a secret?" she leaned forward, lips twisting in a naughty smile. "It's _**not**_ random. We were chosen. And we aren't the only ones."

* * *

**A Word from DayStorm:** _There will be a part 3 – hopefully up tomorrow. lol And then Klaus and Amanda are leaving the Assassin's Creed world. :) I intended this to be the last chapter in Assassin's Creed but it was getting far too long._


	19. Chapter 18 - Giovanna - Part 3

**_*It goes without saying that The Originals and every other film, book or franchise that will be mentioned in this fanfiction belong to their respectful owners. I claim no ownership or association to any of the many "universes" that will be visited in this fanfiction.*_**

**Chapter 18**

**GIOVANNA – Part 3**

* * *

"They'll still kill you if you look at them wrong, but they will feel bad about it later."

– **Yusuf Tazim **to** Ezio Auditore**

_Assassin's Creed: Revelations (2011)_

* * *

_**POV – Klaus**_

_Whoosh-Whoosh-Whoosh_

The wet, hot rush of blood beat deliciously in Klaus' head, heightening his hunger even as the spill of blood in his mouth slaked his thirst. The salt of skin. The warmth of the body in his arms, terrified struggles growing weak as life drained out of his prey. _**More**_. Always more. He drew harder on the gaping throat, using his sharp teeth to tear the vicious wound wider allowing more blood to flow faster.

He drank, euphoric and riding the terrible high of bloodlust and power. A dark combination in most, but in the hybrid it was glorious. He was unstoppable and knowing it only fueled his fire to new heights.

And then it was over.

_Whoosh . . . w-whoosh . . . w-w-whoosh . . . . . . . . . . . ._

The silence that came after was one of stillness. Dying was violent and brutal and bloody. But death itself was quiet.

Klaus released the body, letting it fall to the ground with a muffled thud. For a few precious seconds, the pleasure continued to sparkle and snap all though his body. Warming him from the inside and almost, almost touching that emptiness in him. That part that waned ever wider; a hole he could never fill. No matter how much blood he drank. No matter how hot that thrill burned.

He felt cold.

Always so cold. So alone.

Even the blood smearing his face cooled, and with it the pleasure of slaking his bloodlust. He licked the blood from his fangs, seeking just a few more seconds of heat. It wasn't there. And looking for it only brought the pain inside of him closer to the surface. It was sharper now than it'd been when he started the slaughter.

Ezio approached cautiously.

Klaus' eyes shone brilliant amber gold. Wolf's eyes. But the assassin wouldn't recognize that in him. If Ezio didn't truly believe his accusation of devil before, he certainly did now. Klaus had made no effort to keep track of how many throats he'd torn open since the first two in the cistern. There had been many.

Too many, even for him. He wasn't even hungry anymore, the vampire in him sated and lazy from overindulgence. It was only the man that demanded more and more blood. He needed the heat, not the nourishment.

"How many souls must you devour, _maestro_, before you find what it is you seek with such fervor?" the assassin asked him.

Souls. Would that fill that gaping emptiness in him? Klaus wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, smearing the stains rather than wiping his face clean. How long until he lost himself completely to this grasping need to drink. To drink until he burst open?

"Rivers of blood could not sate this hunger in me," he responded, a flicker of fear spiking in his heart. He meant to scare Ezio, to break through that mask of indifference Ezio had worn since they began but the truth of what he'd said . . . it worried him. Klaus couldn't keep doing this.

He'd found moments of peace in his life before, and he would find those precious moments again. Where the beast was silent and he could breathe. Just breathe without that elastic band tightening around his lungs, suffocating him in a way he could never explain even to his own family. They would not understand. Or else they would, but they could not help him.

Could not quiet the scream that echoed within the walls of his own mind.

A particular smell wafted around him, heavy in the damp tunnel. Weighed by the moisture in the air, sharpening the scent to where he could taste it. Cinnamon and black pepper.

_**Her**_ scent. Sweet but spiced with something darker. Not unpleasant but also not what anyone would think he'd enjoy. He couldn't say exactly why, but that scent soothed him. It would waft from her and wrap around him. Soaking into his skin and warming him.

It was so slight; such a subtle difference but when all you felt was pain even a moment of peace was a blessed relief. It's why losing her had nearly driven him over that edge into madness. It was why he still teetered perilously close to flinging himself over.

Amanda.

What was so special with this one human? This frail little mortal who's life could be snuffed out in an instant that he felt bereft without her presence. The lilt of her voice; confident and soft, uncertain and so eager to talk. Needing to understand. She amused him. Clearly afraid of him, but not so cowed that she bored him. She would banter with him, responding to the things he said with wit and humor.

The night before, when they'd worked together to capture the assassin who followed after her had been great fun. He'd followed Amanda, keeping her well within sight and marveling at her trust. He promised he would protect her – and meant it when the promise was made – but hadn't truly expected that the little mortal would believe him.

She'd trusted him and that bit of faith stirred something in him.

Now in these awful sewers beneath the city of Constantinople in a universe that wasn't his, but that he had no hope of escaping without that girl and her magical Cube . . . her scent continued to taunt him with her loss.

He could smell her. Even over the souring scent of blood pooling on damp stone, and the multitude of foul odors from the sewer the fragrance of cinnamon and black pepper caught at the back of his throat.

"_Maestro,_" the assassin said, interrupting his frustrated musing. "Will you kill all those who have the misfortune of crossing our path?"

"Do you object, _**assassin**_?" Klaus said, emphasizing the last word.

Ezio hesitated, dark eyes meeting the devil's glowing amber. Unflinching. Considering how best to respond. If he dared say any more at all.

"Assassin I may be, but a killer I am not, _maestro_. We do not murder," he said at last. "Our creed restricts the unnecessary slaughter of innocents and is intended to create peace. Not slaughter."

The last said with heavy irony. Klaus had slaughtered every living thing they'd come across, soaking the Constantinople underground in blood. Her smirked, finally retracting his fangs. Amanda's scent thick, wafting from his clothes where it'd settled on him during their brief time together.

Knowing the assassin would follow him Klaus turned away and continued walking down the unlit tunnel. Sharp senses seeking the tell-tale steady _**thu-thump**_ of human heartbeats.

All he heard was the rapid patter of rats. They were alone.

"It is said that nothing is true, and everything is permitted," Ezio continued, keeping his voice low. Undoubtedly concerned that the screams of the now-dead ottoman Klaus had drained would bring more down the tunnel . . . sheep to the slaughter.

Klaus snorted. "What a ridiculous motto for a league of assassins. If nothing is true, then why believe in anything at all? And if everything is permitted, why not chase every desire? Thoughtless words; they give your league permission to do whatever it wants with no fear of the consequences."

"No, _maestro_," Ezio shook his head, causing his hood to rustle slightly. "Those words are not meant as guidelines, but rather an understanding. To say that nothing is true is to realize that the foundations of society are fragile and that only the slightest turn could bring an empire to its knees. Everything is permitted is the understanding that we must live with the consequences of our actions. It is to accept the freedom of choices."

Klaus paused, tilting his head. The sweet scent of cinnamon was even stronger that it'd been before. He drew a deep, slow breath.

To Ezio, he said, "And yet the freedom to choose was stolen from you as easily as I might have plucked a flower from the grass. You are compelled to do as I say, no matter your own mind. Freedom is easily usurped, assassin. Were I to tell you to take your knives and drive them into your own heart, you would do so without pause. For no other reason than because I told you to do it. Anything to say to that?"

"I say that absolute freedom does not exist in the world, _maestro_," Ezio responded, immediately. Dark, intelligent eyes unwavering. "That we are bound, always. By the laws of civilization. By the oaths we take. By our own minds . . . those limits we place upon ourselves. The freedom I meant was not the liberty to do whatever we please, but the ability to choose how to manage our lives within the restrains placed upon us."

He pushed back the hood obscuring his face, allowing Klaus to see him. The weathered face of a man who had travelled the world, having seen terrible things – and having done terrible things – but still, somehow, an honorable man.

"You have enslaved my will, _maestro,_ and I am at your mercy. But I have not surrendered myself to you. That is freedom, is it not?"

Was it? Klaus regarded the man before him, mildly entertained but also irritated. This was not a discussion he wanted to have in a reeking sewer that stank of souring blood and filth from the city above. This was something that touched entirely too close to Klaus' own mind and he didn't know what to do about it.

He could finish the assassin right now.

Sink his aching fangs deep, deep into Ezio's throat. Gorge on hot, hot blood that would satisfy only until it was over. Once the assassin was dead, none of it would make a difference. It would not silence the man's voice ringing in Klaus' ears.

A cold wind seemed to brush past them, rustling the assassin's gray tunic.

Fast as a whip of lightning, Klaus had him. Hand hooked around the back of his head to drag Ezio closer. No emotion showed in the assassin's eyes. Not a flicker of fear. He was face-to-face with a monster, seconds from dying and bound by compulsion to remain unresisting. He could not fight back to save himself.

And still he did not quake. Did not falter.

"A man who can look his own death in the eyes, unflinching and without apology is perhaps one who deserves to live," Klaus said, very low. Voice rough. Terrible power cracked, lancing from his gaze straight into Ezio. "Leave this place. Forget everything you have seen here. Forget me. Forget Amanda. Return to your life, _killer-with-a-cause_ and know only that you have cheated death today."

Done with him, Klaus released Ezio and turned away. Listened, for a while, to the footsteps growing fainter as the assassin did as he was told. He left. He would not remember anything of what was done to him. The things he'd seen.

And Klaus was ready to forget him. The pungent scent of cinnamon and black pepper coalesced into something stronger. It wafted, filling the damp tunnel so thickly it struck him like a slap.

Had he not been so distracted, he would have recognized the significance immediately. The _**strength**_ of that smell. It was fresh and clean and very close.

Amanda Warren. His little mortal bird.

The air stirred, a slight breeze whistling through the cracks in the stone wall. Water trickled, chiming pleasantly in the quiet. Stepping carefully, Klaus approached the wall.

The breeze slipping through the crack hissed cold against his face and with it . . . the strong scent of cinnamon and pepper.

It was her.

She was still here.

* * *

_**POV – Amanda**_

"There was never any hope for me, in the world where I was born. My whole life and every drop of blood in my body belonged to the war. This war which has lasted, uninterrupted for two hundred years. Whatever the war was originally started for didn't matter anymore. After so long, we hated them and they hated us. That's all there was."

Giovanna cast me a soft, sad smile and tapped the toe of her boot in a puddle, causing ripples to roll out. I was sitting on a large, misshapen stone. A piece that might have broken off from the ceiling. The stone was damp and covered in a soft green moss. Giovanna sat a few feet away, on a step at the base of the statue.

"By law, every child who reaches the age of thirteen is to be removed from the care of their parents and relocated to a training camp where our formal military education begins."

"Thirteen?" I interrupted. "Didn't you say –"

"– yes. I was thirteen when I found my Black Pyramid. It was only a few hours shy of when I was supposed to leave home. As I said, finding my pyramid was a blessing I dared not hope for. It gave me my escape."

"That's what you meant. When you said you never wanted to go home."

She tilted her head. Pleased, it seemed, at the absence of censure in my voice. I wasn't judging her. We were talking.

"I had nothing to go home to," Giovanna admitted. "I owed my country years of military service and did not deliver it. From thirteen to fifteen, we are trained. This is followed by three years of probationary service behind allied lines. By seventeen, I would have been sent to the front. Those who survive are released at twenty-five and allowed to return home. From birth I understood that this was expected of me. But finding my Pyramid changed everything. I was plucked from that gray world and flung into all the brilliant colors of new universes."

She smiled, then, her eyes sparkling with the same awe she must have felt when it was all new to her. Her next words confirmed it, "All these places. It was like for the first time my eyes were opened and I could see. I never knew there was such a thing as no-war. But there were worlds I landed in that were at peace. Worlds that were happy and prosperous. Oh, how I wished I could stay there but I hadn't learned to control my Pyramid, yet, and I was afraid. Afraid of what would happen if I left my Pyramid alone to leave without me, only to discover I'd made an error and was now trapped in a world that wasn't what it had seemed."

I understood. It was my own fear put into words. I was chained to my Box, because I was afraid of what would happen if I lost it. So I would keep doing this, leaping in and out of alternate universes just in case . . . in case of whatever. I _**had**_ to.

"You have the power to control your Pyramid now, though," I pointed out. "You can go wherever you want. So why did you come here?"

Giovanna almost seemed to shake herself, throwing off the memories to bring herself back to the now. "Even freedom gets tedious, Amanda. I did my rounds, playing the tourist through the cosmos. I enjoyed it. The discovery. The pleasure of seeing new things, of experiencing life the way it was meant. As a joy. But I couldn't ever wash myself clean of what came before. The hopelessness of my life where I came from and knowing that there were others just like me. Girls and boys forced into service; there to replace those who died senselessly in a war that should never have been started and can't seem to end. It never stops."

She pressed the tip of her finger into a patch of green moss growing on the step beside her, causing a bloom of water to pool. Murky dark; different from what surrounded us. The water on the ground was crystal clear. Almost unnaturally transparent.

"I had power. For the first time my Fate was in my own hands," she said softly "and I have far greater aspirations."

It was the way she said it, more than the words themselves and it sent chills racing over my skin. Foreboding.

I narrowed my eyes as something finally occurred to me. Oh, she _**was**_ good. "You're not telling me anything. You give just enough to make me think you're laying it all out for me, but you're not actually telling me anything."

Giovanna met my gaze; the gray in her eyes like frosted glass. I could tell she was gauging my mood. Measuring my mind. How similar were we? How much of her, was there in me? She was asking herself that question, and this: _could I be trusted?_

I didn't let her make a decision. I made it for her.

We were going to talk, whether she liked it or not. "You're not new here. You've been in this universe awhile."

"For months, now. Yes."

"Why did you go to Italy?"

She didn't miss a beat. "I had to. There were things I needed I thought the assassins might tell me. It was a risk, yes, but worth it."

A risk. To infiltrate the league of assassins. A risk.

I decided to throw her a curveball. Show that I knew things, too, and was in possession of a bit of knowing that could be very dangerous to her. "You were searching for an artifact. The assassins called it an Apple of Eden. What for?"

Gotcha.

Maybe because I knew my own face so well, I recognized the signs of stress on hers. Tension. It was so subtle – Giovanna was a master manipulator, she knew how to hide what she felt – but there it was. The miniscule tightening of the skin between her eyes. The way her nostrils flared on a breath she didn't intend to take. She straightened her spine, sitting up. Paying much closer attention at the bombshell I just dropped in her lap.

"What do you think you know?" she asked, trying to regain a measure of her former composure but the words were clipped. Insistent.

Okay. Back off a bit, now.

"Only that you stole from the assassins the information you needed, which in turn nearly killed me because of the kill-order they placed on your head. They followed you with every intention of stopping you from doing what you intend to do."

I wasn't scared. Instead, I felt a flurry of excitement beating in my chest. A lifetime of learning to keep conversations flowing at banquet tables full of important people had unintentionally given me an advantage. I knew how to do this. For the first time it occurred to me . . . I could manipulate too.

I confessed more to make her think I didn't understand how valuable that information was, prompting her to keep talking. And from the shine in her eyes, she had no idea I'd just turned the tables on her. Careful, though. Don't get cocky . . .

It worked. Giovanna offered a small smile and tilted her head, letting a ribbon of hair to fall forward so that she could look up at me though that curtain of hair. "Do you think I'm bad, Amanda? That I'm hatching some evil plot?"

"What's the Apple?" I asked instead, steering this conversation in a direction she seemed hesitant to touch on. "I figure you're not just after a piece of red fruit. Why is this artifact so important?"

The silence that followed my question stretched for so long, I was sure she wouldn't answer. I let my hand pass over the soft lambskin leather of my satchel, feeling the hard edges of my Box inside. Reassuring me. Giovanna's Pyramid sat on the step beside her, black as void and terrifying to look at. Pyramids were mysterious things to begin with; but knowing the power contained in something so small, and the control she had over that power troubled me.

"Why is the artifact so important?" Giovanna echoed with a deep sigh. "That depends on what you want them for. The Apples can control people's minds. They can create illusions and make you believe things . . . make you believe anything."

She shook her head, causing her long hair to swing. It shone, thick and golden and much longer than mine. I stayed quiet, sensing she had more to say . . . her purpose. It was what I wanted. _**Why**_ was she here.

"The Apples aren't ours. They were created by the first civilization of this world. Oh, I don't know what they were. Aliens?" small shrug "They were technologically more advanced than anything I've seen in any of the worlds I've been too, and I don't need to have met them to know that. They were superior."

Giovanna paused to take a breath. Sunlight glinted off the water around us, casting patterns of light and shadow over our faces and the broken stone columns that glistened with moisture.

"It's said that the First Civilization created mankind, and enslaved us by modifying our brains to be particularly susceptible to the influence of these Apples. A sphere of silver with runes etched into this metal ball."

She paused again. I laced my fingers, trying to warm my hands in the damp cave. But still waiting. Waiting for her to say what she was only hinting at.

"They used the Apples to control mankind, and for a time there was a forced peace. World peace, if you like. There was no pain, or hunger of suffering. All that was needed for humans to live in perfect harmony was to sacrifice their freedom. They were enslaved, but they weren't unhappy."

"You don't intend to . . ." I faltered. Swallowed. Not sure how to finish that sentence.

Giovanna shot me a quelling look. "The First Civilization eventually died off and humans took over the world. Their instruments of power, however, remained. As far as I know, there are five Apples still in existence. I only need one. Just _**one**_."

I stared straight at this girl who looked like me. Trying to understand how two versions of the same person could have split so far apart that she genuinely disturbed me. "You want to take over the world? Enslave all of humanity. Not exactly an original idea, though, is it?"

"I don't want to take over the world," Giovanna said, rolling her eyes. She laughed, the first real laugh I'd heard from her and it was one of delight.

I frowned; all at once sure I'd misunderstood the point of her story.

The grin she offered was friendly and amused. "I lived too long without hope to ever wish that life on another person. I told you, I'm not the bad guy."

"What are you after?"

"You wouldn't understand."

Like hell. "Try me."

"You won't understand," she said tiredly. "You won't get the magnitude of what I've found out. But it has to do with all these alternate universe. Each one is a single universe, all contained in its own bubble. It's not small. Not just the Earth, or the sun or our whole galaxy. It's a billion-billion galaxies all one universe. All of it. And that is just _**one**_ universe."

_I know that, _I thought but didn't interrupt. Giovanna looked so worn out, now. Like the fight was going out of her and she just wanted to get this said.

"But the universes aren't all floating in giant soap bubbles in a void. It's more _**compact**_ than that. Imagine grains of sand on a beach, where every grain is its own separate and complete universe just sort of pressing against the grains surrounding it. The walls of these universes are actually touching. Not bumping but actually _**pressing**_ into each other. The friction that causes must be immeasurable. I can't even image."

"Yes," I prompted. Keep going.

"The beach analogy isn't exactly right, but I wanted you to picture it. All these tiny grains all packed together. But to get what I'm saying, you have to look closer. Even smaller than sand. We keep saying that we're travelling _**'between universes'**_ but that's wrong. Because the divide between one and another is infinitely small. The universes are pressing against each other with so much force that even the subatomic would not fit. Do you understand?"

No. Sort of. I understood what she was saying, but more in the sense that I understood the words. I was struggling to understand the point. What was she after? She must have seen that denial in my expression because the tilted smile she offered was too expectant.

She said, "About a year ago, I landed in a world that was studying Dark Matter. They'd made quite a bit of progress, actually, and it wasn't hard to win myself a lunch with a physics department head looking to talk. He went on and on about it, and I listened. It was there that I learned . . . or started to figure it out. That infinitely tiny space between the universes? Where even the subatomic would be too large to fit . . . there's something _**in there**_. It's not absolute compression. There's a power running in between each universe, like a current of electricity where there should be nothing."

Her eyes were shining, now. "That's what I want, Amanda. I want to understand what's there. Because this thing, this current of invisible power . . . it's the lifeblood of these universes. Not just one universe but of _**all of them**_. It's what's keeping the universes from collapsing into each other. It's why nothing is compressed into oblivion. It's why the universes can exist."

The way she said it, explaining it to me it sounded insane but I felt the little hairs on my arms prickling. I could feel the magnitude of what she was telling me. I didn't know what to say. Giovanna had stopped talking, was looking at me with raw expectation . . . hoping for something. A reaction. Just something from me. I stared.

"What does any of that have to do with the Apple-thing?"

Not what she was hoping for. I saw her visibly deflate. All that energy, the excitement of discovery going out of her in a whoosh.

"I don't want the Apple for what it can do. Mind-control and all that. I want it so I can take it apart. I need what's powering the thing." She tossed her hair back, flipping it over her shoulder with an impatient swipe of her hand and leaned forward. "It took me forever to find this world, and once I have the Apple I don't intend to stay. But I can't leave until I've got it. My Pyramid responds to my commands, now, but I'm not sure I could find this Universe again. So I'll brave the threat of assassination and whatever else this place throws at me to gather the damn Keys I need to break into the chamber where the damn Apple is entombed and then I'm off."

"And me?" I asked, very carefully.

Giovanna hooked her backpack and slung it over her shoulder. She stood up. "The countdown clock on your Cube still owns you. Maybe, once you've learned to master your Cube you'll come find me . . ."

W-what? I scrambled off the broken piece of column I'd been sitting on, stiff from the damp and cold and moved to stand in front of my double. Another me.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I shot out. "You think I'm just going to let you walk out?"

"Your clock is counting down the last sixty," she told me with a sardonic smile.

I started. Sixty seconds . . . for the first time since meeting her, my mind turned to Klaus. Oh, no. Oh, no! He didn't know I hadn't lost him. We were still together, but separate and now . . . there was no time to find him.

I turned to face Giovanna, fury whipping through me. "You distracted me."

She chuckled. "No. I meant what I said. I wanted to meet you. Tic-tock. Not long left. Your vampire had better get a move on."

Icy static began to swell from my satchel, swirling like an arctic wind around my body. Giovanna backed away, slipping carefully around the side of the big statue.

I charged after her. "No. You're not doing this to me! Use your Pyramid to bring Klaus here. I need him!"

I wasn't leaving without him. I _**needed**_ him.

"I don't have to," Giovanna said, her voice ringing in my ears. "I'm not bad, Amanda."

Seconds left. The powers collided, collapsing and my head filled with the scent of ice and blood. Arms like bands of hot iron closed around my body. Incredible strength pressing me into a lean chest. I turned my head, but it was too late. My vision blinked out, as hellish cold and total darkness swept through the both of us . . . Klaus . . .

* * *

**A Quick Word From DayStorm –** _Phew. Okay. That's it. The Assassin's Creed world is officially over. If the very end feels a little rushed, it's because it is. You guys aren't the only ones getting tired of it. haha This chapter was getting way, way too long (and heavy) so I cut an entire section away. But I swear I'm not just making stuff up as I go. Giovanna is my antagonist but not a villain and we'll see her again._

_Now, a lot of people have mentioned that they are not really familiar with the worlds Klaus and Amanda have visited so far . . . so as a reward for sticking with me through all of this, the next world is going to be a well-known and beloved fandom. You guys are going to like this, I'm sure of it._


	20. Chapter 19 - The Three Broomsticks

**_*It goes without saying that The Originals and every other film, book or franchise that will be mentioned in this fanfiction belong to their respectful owners. I claim no ownership or association to any of the many "universes" that will be visited in this fanfiction.*_**

**Chapter 19**

**THE THREE BROOMSTICKS**

* * *

"Potentially problematic? When was the last time _**you**_ held your breath underwater for an

hour, Hermione?"

– **Harry Potter**

_Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_

J.K. Rowling (author)

* * *

Klaus watched with a sort of mystified fascination as I finished my third slice of meat pie and gravy. He was nursing a mug of warmed cider, slowly turning the cup around in his hands. He hadn't eaten anything, I guess worried that if he tried to cut a piece of the pie I'd stick my fork in his hand.

"Where do you put it?" he asked at last, blue eyes passing over my body. Skinny girl in jeans, with my coat slung over the back of my chair.

I pressed the side of my fork down on the crust still on my plate, watching how the pastry flaked and came apart. Having had too little to eat for weeks had shrunk my stomach. I was feeling full almost to bursting, but of course I wouldn't tell him that. Klaus' interest only encouraged me to eat more. Who knew when I'd get another chance to fuel up?

"Don't make yourself sick."

"Says the guy who guzzles blood like diet soda," I retorted, but smiled to show I was kidding. Sort of.

I knew where we were. Just like the night where I landed in The Originals' world . . . and accidentally picked up Klaus . . . I recognized this place though I'd never been here before. How could I, ever? In my Universe, the village of _Hogsmeade_ existed only in the imagination of a talented author and the multitude of fans who dreamed of this place, wishing it was real. Knowing it wasn't.

I kept this to myself, not wanting to spoil my happiness by voicing it out loud. How excited I was to be here. How thrilled I felt when I spotted the first teenager wearing black robes and a red and gold scarf coming out of candy shop – the sign over the door spelling out _Honeydukes _in beautiful, detailed script. Because I _**knew**_. There were people in my own Universe who would have killed to switch places with me right now, and it made it so that I fervently wished I'd been a bigger fan than I was. That I might have been more deserving to be in this place.

So I said nothing. Not one word.

We were in the _Three Broomsticks Inn_, having an early dinner in a quiet corner. Business was very good, by the look of it. The comfortable dining room was warm, crowded and a bit smoky. Built primarily of wood and stone, there was a very old-world coziness here. A large, roaring fire in the stone hearth only added to the atmosphere. We were close enough to it so that I could feel the heat beating against the left side of my body.

Naturally, it was Klaus who noticed the one detail I hadn't cared enough to think was strange. And it was _**exactly**_ because I knew where we were that I hadn't noticed it. To me it was expected, but even obliviousness worked in his favor apparently.

"Too many damn kids," he muttered into his drink.

I glanced up, alarmed, but it was just an observation. He didn't seem particularly disturbed by the number of teenagers milling about. Someone opened the front door, and a cold wind blew in. Smoke billowed out from the fire, and sparks flew as a log settled. I shivered and placed my hand on my satchel, tension knotting in my stomach.

Slowly, I removed my hand from the satchel on my lap, releasing my grip on the Black Box. My paranoia had skyrocketed after thinking I'd lost Klaus. Giovanna's apparent ease at hijacking my Box's power to drag me away left me feeling very unsafe. The cold air was so shocking right next to a crackling fire that I . . . I'd thought . . . it didn't matter.

I pushed my plate away.

"Done already?" Klaus remarked. "But you've hardly eaten a thing."

"Oh, shut up," I muttered.

Klaus tipped his mug in my direction, low enough so that I could tell it was nearly empty. The scent of mulled apples came off his breath. He was actually drinking the cider and the juvenile in me thought that was funny. Badass vampire-werewolf hybrid drinking apple juice.

The crowd heaved, laughter rising over the pleasant buzz of conversation. I looked at the gaggle of teenagers who'd just come in, shaking snow out of their hair and stomping their boots to dislodge the slush caked on. A group of four; clearly close friends by the easy banter flying back and forth. Their faces were flushed from the cold, but heavy cloaks were unbuttoned and scarves loosened now that they were inside where it was much warmer.

My eyes settled on one. A tall guy who looked to be about my age, raking long fingers through copper-colored hair dusted with snowflakes. Hair that was more brown than red, I guessed, but it was hard to tell in the smoky atmosphere. Gray sunlight peeked in through the windows at his back, haloing him in nearly ethereal light. A pleasant warmth sparkled around my heart; and it was like he could feel my appreciation because he looked up then.

Our eyes met from clear across the crowded dining room.

Oh! I quickly dropped my gaze, fixing instead on the tabletop directly in front of me and felt the rush of heat stinging a furious blush. I hadn't meant to fix a stare. I certainly didn't intend for someone to _**catch me**_ staring. I peeked up through my lashes and to my horror realized Klaus had seen all of that.

He didn't bother to glance at the boy I was admiring from afar; he just tilted a slight smile.

"What?"

"Hungry for something a little more substantial than meatpie?" he said, causing my face to flame even hotter and I knew – knew – responding would only encourage him but I couldn't help myself.

My mind spun. I wanted to toss out something clever but I had nothing, so I settled on the first thought that popped into my head. "Just be thankful I wasn't staring at _**you**_."

Klaus tipped his mug in my direction, as if in agreement._ Good thing._

Oh, my god. Mortified, I slapped both hands over my face to hide. I couldn't believe I actually said that out loud! The sheer implication . . . Klaus wasn't bad looking but I definitely wasn't sneaking peeks at the Original hybrid.

Face on fire, I peered through my fingers unsurprised to find he was still watching me; his expression unreadable. The blue in his eyes deepened in a way that made me think he might not have minded if I _**did**_ want to look. Puzzled, I lowered my hands and that fast, the expression on Klaus' face evaporated making me wonder if I'd misread what I thought I saw. We hadn't exactly been okay since the last world . . . not friends to start with; I thought we might have backtracked a lot on the progress we'd made. At least as far as trust goes.

Things had been tense between us since Giovanna kidnapped me. If Klaus had been just a little slower – a couple seconds behind – I would have lost him forever. It wasn't even the thought of being stranded, but that we might have found ourselves alone. And if there was one thing Klaus feared above all else, it was that exact thing. Realizing how easily we might have been separated had shaken him. Had shaken me, too.

He hid it, of course, under his a mask of devil-may-care swagger. I hid it by pretending it hadn't happened. Neither of us brought it up. One of us would. Eventually. But until then, we didn't talk about it. We just stayed together.

I ate my dinner, while Klaus leaned casually back in his chair. Nursing a mug of warmed cider and occasionally staring into the crackling fire behind me. His leather coat hooked on the back of his chair. Klaus was wearing a navy-colored sweater, all evidence of blood washed off the front of it. I'd wondered about that, until I noticed the obvious. It wasn't the same shirt he'd been wearing before.

I had no idea what'd happened to the gray t-shirt he'd had on, or where he got this new one but it didn't seem important enough to question him over.

"There's a boarding school in a castle up the road," I said, to fill the lengthening silence.

"Good to know," he said, totally missing the significance of the school I was talking about. Just reminding _**myself**_ it was there caused my heart to pitter-patter. _Hogwarts_ was up the road. I wanted to go and see, but the odds were pretty good we wouldn't be allowed inside.

We weren't students there. We weren't even witches.

Such a depressing thought. I sighed.

Totally without my permission, my eyes wandered back toward the group that'd come into the inn. They were at a table, now, removing their cloaks and settling with drinks. The cute one was still flushed from the cold, but even from here I could see how his eyes caught the firelight making them sparkle. His hair disheveled and a little damp with melted snow slicked back to keep it from falling into his eyes. He had a pretty face, I thought. Handsome, of course, but soft too. Kind.

The way he laughed with his friends, leaning into them and bumping shoulders. Comfortable and easy and _**a part of them**_. A strange ache beat behind my heart. It was so unexpected that I actually didn't know what it was at first. Just this heaviness there, in my chest. Homesickness . . . oh, wow. It took two whole weeks to hit but there it was.

I was sitting in a smoky inn surrounded by strangers, wearing everything I owned. The closest thing I had to a companion was a bloodthirsty vampire who might still turn on me. I didn't know where we were going to sleep tonight. Here, probably and tomorrow was . . . well, tomorrow was a mystery. It was a lonely sensation, knowing I had no bedroom to escape to.

I was chilly. Everything I owned was either on me, or in my satchel.

It felt a lot like I'd been on a long trip. I was tired and just ready for it to be over.

The boy glanced over, and again I averted my eyes. Caught my bottom lip in my teeth and busied myself with the fork in my hand, turning it over and over.

"We should probably set ourselves up with a room," I said to Klaus. "It'll be dark soon."

"Actually, I'm more interested in the school," he responded right away; so fast he almost spoke over me. Not giving me the chance to process the first part of what he said, he went on, "Something's going down at the school tonight and I would very much like to be a part of that."

That in no way surprised me. Not the eavesdropping or that something was happening up at _Hogwarts_. It took six damn books to get around the stuff happening there, so it stood to reason Klaus would overhear someone talking about this year's disaster. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep what I really wanted to say quiet. I wanted to go – was practically leaping with joy at the opening Klaus had given me to agree with him but . . . but . . .

_But Klaus would do whatever the hell he wanted,_ I thought. He wasn't asking my permission.

And, unwittingly, Giovanna's own words mocked me from a world away: _It's not random_.

I didn't know what that meant. If she was talking about some outside force, greater than all of us directing our movement across alternate universes. Or is she meant _**us**_. Giovanna had a powerful control over her device – a pyramid instead of cube, but they were essentially the same thing – and had alluded to the fact that I could learn to do the same. One day I might have the power to choose what Universe we went to. Klaus and I.

"No," I said, slowly. Cleared my throat. "I mean, no. I don't think we should go anywhere. Let's just lay low, rent a room and rest up while we got the chance. Who knows where we'll end up next."

"We," he echoed. "So, it's _we_, now? Or is it _'we'_ _**again**_? Odd, how quickly you partner us when you're afraid I might take off without you. Are we a team, Amanda?"

Okaaayyy. So Klaus was in a mood, itching to lash out . . . this was something he'd been sitting on for a bit, judging by how quickly his temper turned.

"It's been us right from the start, Niklaus," I shot back, bristling. "You're the one who wanted nothing to do with me. Hell, that first world with the predatory aliens you were avoiding me the entire time. Even after I stayed by your carcass harpooned to a tree."

Klaus smirked at that, grinning like I said something funny but I wasn't amused. I was_** seething**_!

How dare he make me out to be selfish? As if I treated him like he was disposable? Only a few hours ago, the Box whisked me away without him but that wasn't my fault.

Anger burned hotter for a second, prompting me to add, "And I didn't leave you behind on purpose, you jerk!"

Wizards at the next table looked curiously over at us, and I ducked my head. Oops. I let my hair fall forward like a curtain to hide my face. A crowded dining room was not the best place to raise your voice and hope to keep a conversation private.

"Absolutely fascinating," Klaus remarked, to fill the following silence.

"What?" I muttered.

Klaus tapped a finger on the table between us, drawing my attention back up to his face. He wasn't grinning anymore. He had the look of a man who's every sense was turned forward, paying complete attention to the thing in front of him. The visual of a wolf peering through the leaves came so suddenly it raised the tiny hairs on the back of my neck.

He said, "You're a mouse, love, hating the attention people pay you without ever really seeming to hide. I've seen you position yourself so deliberately, to stand at my shoulder bringing yourself out of focus. You drop your gaze, shrinking into yourself. Immediately surrendering in a way that screams your distaste for conflict."

I chewed on my bottom lip. He wasn't wrong, exactly, but I really hadn't noticed I was doing that. Klaus had been paying attention, even when it looked like he couldn't have cared less what I was doing. The problem is, I didn't know if that was dangerous or not. We still hadn't been together long enough for me to feel I could trust him and that quiet observation – where he noticed everything, stockpiling details – was a weapon.

I knew it. I did that, too.

Klaus' teeth flashed in a sudden, wicked grin. "You're a mouse, little Amanda, and I . . . I am the _**hybrid**_. I am the monster which monsters fear. The worst my world had to offer quake at the mere mention of my name. And then there's you. The mortal girl standing fierce and fearless against me. Why is that, do you think?"

"I don't know," I said quietly.

Brilliant, beautiful gold bled into the hard blue of his eyes. "Are you afraid of me?"

"Yes."

"Are you?"

I swallowed hard.

"No."

Satisfaction slid over his expression. Not what I expected. Klaus leaned back, his chair creaking with his weight and reached one long arm over the back. I hadn't noticed how close we'd gotten, both leaning over across the table. Voices low. Intense. Staring into each other's eyes. I took a deep breath, my lungs aching as if I'd been holding it.

Sparks flew from the hearth, tiny little flickers of burning orange dancing on the air. The smell of wood smoke thickening, filling the room with warmth. I let my gaze wander around the dining room packed with people and somehow, my eyes found their way to the boy around my age sitting with his friends.

He held a mug of something that steamed lightly, head bowed. Looking into his drink with the sort of fixed focus that told me I just missed catching him glancing over again. Klaus was wrong. I liked the attention. Or, I liked this sort. Having a boy sending me looks from across a smoky room . . . I wasn't used to it, wasn't quite sure what to do about it.

But I wasn't uncomfortable.

Rather, I just didn't like making a scene. I kept my eyes on the boy across the room. He didn't look over again but I could tell he knew I was watching. Klaus tossed backed the last of his drink and stood up, hooking his jacket with one hand and pulling it on. The wizards at the next table edged nervously away.

"Whoa," I gasped, grabbing my satchel off my lap with one hand and half-standing. "What are we doing?"

"Someone hasn't been paying attention," Klaus said mockingly. "I want to see the school in the castle."

True to form, Klaus didn't wait for me. He just turned and walked away, weaving through the crowd like a shadow. Of course he didn't have to wait. He _**knew**_ I would follow. I always did.

I made a grab for my own coat, while simultaneously tossing the long ribbon of my satchel strap over my head . . . the sleeve of my jacket caught on the chair, tipping the chair too far so it toppled over. Crashing to the floor with a loud clatter.

Wonderful. I dropped down, blood rushing to my face as dozens of eyes swung around to see what I'd done and stood the chair back up.

"Sorry," I muttered to the room. A smattering of laughs rang out, some shrugs here and there. People went back to their drinks and food.

Klaus really wasn't waiting for me. He was already nearly to the door and I darted after him, passing the cute boy's table on the way. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a flash of yellow as he whipped a scarf around the back of his neck.

"Klaus, wait," I hissed through my teeth. He paused with one hand on the door. "What do you think we're going to do? You can't just waltz into Hogwarts."

Klaus didn't trust me any more than I did him. Eyes flashed, briefly, bright gold. As if they were glowing, lit from within. Startlingly clear in the smoky, dimly lit dining room.

"Alright, this is not the first time you've done that." Shot out like an accusation. He grabbed my wrist, fingers like iron-bars closing over the delicate bones. I didn't think he meant it as a threat, but I froze. Startled. Scared. He leaned in, pressing his rough cheek against mine and whispered in my ear, "When we have a moment to ourselves, love, you and I are going to discuss how it is you know these things. Details of the worlds we visit, places you've never been."

I winced, belatedly realizing the monumental mistake I just made. _**Hogwarts**_. I called the school by its name. Klaus might believe I just happened to know it. After all, he'd been eavesdropping on conversations since we got here, too. But he was right. He was absolutely right. I should have kept my mouth shut. I'd done that in the Predators' Universe, too. Blurted out information like I had a clue, when no one else did.

But this was so not the time to have that conversation.

"Let go of me," I said instead, tugging at my hand locked in his grip. Curling a smile, he released my wrist and slammed out of the Inn's front door . . . nearly breaking the nose of a shaggy-haired girl standing right on the other side.

I sighed, feeling a tremendous desire to flip him off and go my own way. To hell with temperamental vampire-hybrids throwing mini-tantrums.

To hell with . . . ah, hell . . .

I shot out the door, past the shaggy-haired girl, my shoes crunching on hard-packed snow and _WHAM_! I slammed into the boy who'd been standing out of sight behind her. Flesh struck flesh. The collision of two bodies not soft, but very hard. I hit him in a rush, my momentum driving me straight into him. I couldn't stop.

He flailed a second, boots finding no traction on a sheet of hard ice before seeming to give up. He fell over backwards, landing with a muffled _whoomph_ in the snow. I skidded, stumbled and dropped to my knees to keep balance.

For almost all of a minute, everything stopped moving and we all just sort of stayed where we were. Looking a little dazed the boy propped himself up on his elbows, bringing us face to face.

Huge, bright green eyes lifted to mine and I saw the lightning-shaped scare on his forehead, only just peeking out through his bangs.

"Oh, for godsake," I moaned.

I meet the _**real**_ Harry Potter and the first thing I do is shoulder-check him into a snowbank.


	21. Chapter 20 - The Trigger

**_*It goes without saying that The Originals and every other film, book or franchise that will be mentioned in this fanfiction belong to their respectful owners. I claim no ownership or association to any of the many "universes" that will be visited in this fanfiction.*_**

**A QUICK WORD FROM DAYSTORM:**_ Alright! So, from here on I'll __**start updating more often**__. I apologize for the long pause between the last chapter and this one – makes me wince just thinking about it._

_Some good did come out of my little vacation, though. I'm rested and motivated again! Ready to write. :D I found my focus! Whoo!_

_On the side, I replaced the Harry Potter quote I intended for this chapter with one from David Bowie instead; the English singer, songwriter, producer and actor who passed away on the 10__th__ of January, 2016. A bonus __**second**__ quote; from Alan Rickman, the actor who played Professor Snape. Sadly, he passed on the 14__th__ of January, 2016._

_Just my own tiny way of showing respect._

_Best,_

_DayStorm_

**Chapter 20**

**THE TRIGGER**

* * *

"I don't know where I'm going from here, but I promise it won't be boring."

– **David Bowie**

(1947-2016)

* * *

"It's a human need to be told stories. The more we're governed by idiots and

have no control over our destinies, the more we need to tell stories to each other . . ."

– **Alan Rickman**

(1947-2016)

* * *

"Ohmygod," tumbled out all in a rush "I am so, so sorry! Are you okay?"

Harry Potter continued to blink, still looking a bit dazed by the collision but he nodded and pressed his hands into the snow. Bracing himself to stand up on the slippery ground. I scrambled to my feet – easier for me, since I was just on my knees – and held out my hands to help him. To my surprise, Harry accepted the gesture without hesitation.

He brushed snow off the back of his robes and picked his red and gold scarf off the ground, where it'd come lose when he fell. Or, um, when I pushed him.

"I'm really sorry," I said again.

His friends crowded around, the shaggy-haired girl laying her hand on Harry's arm as if to make sure he was okay. Hermione. I couldn't believe it. And the ginger-haired boy struggling not to laugh as Harry Potter wound his ice-encrusted scarf over his neck had to be Ron Weasly.

I'll admit, I was more than a little star struck.

These weren't actors. They were the real thing. These three would be instrumental in saving the wizarding world . . . if they hadn't already. No. No. All three looked younger than me and from the little bit I knew about the books they were supposed to be my age at the end of it. So the world-saving part hadn't happened yet.

I cleared my throat. "Uh, look. I'm really sorry for . . . for knocking you down."

_But I have to go, see, because the pissed off vampire I'm travelling with likely hasn't stopped to wait for me and I don't want to lose him. Again._

I didn't say that last part out loud. Probably a good thing, since all three were already giving me weird looks. Harry, at least, had the grace to pretend he wasn't staring. But the other two didn't even try to hide it. Hermione looked at me with great interest, her brown eyes sparkling in the pale winter sunlight.

Ron just gaped. I swear, his mouth was hanging open.

What?

And then it hit me. My voice.

Or . . . not my voice, exactly. It was my _**accent**_.

Harry. Ron. Hermione. They all spoke with the distinctive English lilt; but I carried the harder American accent which labeled me immediately as a foreigner. My heart sank. Doubtful anyone would guess I was a visitor from another universe but that wasn't the point.

In the Predator's world, I just went with it.

In fifteenth century Constantinople, blending was impossible so I didn't even try.

I was hoping that in this place, I could just fade into the background. Harry Potter universe . . . it was on Earth and in the modern era. Klaus was right. I hid. I wanted to disappear. Be invisible. Not draw attention.

They were all still looking at me, waiting for me to say more. The Golden Trio. My gaze flicked up to the zigzag scar on the forehead of Harry Potter, then immediately snapped to his face.

"I gotta go."

"Oh!" Hermione gasped. "We're staring. You're right. How rude."

She stuck out her hand, encased in a soft wool mitten and said, "I'm Hermione Granger."

"Amanda Warren," I responded, accepting her hand in a firm clasp. I shouldn't have given her my name – shouldn't have offered my_**full name**_ – but a lifetime of firm conditioning made it all automatic. Not a single thought went into what I should do. I just did. Because that's what I'd always done.

It was a trigger. The automatic response pricking at my memories so strongly that for just a second, my ears rang with the clink of wineglasses and the buzz of polite conversation. The cold and biting wind faded into the background, where I could still feel it but stronger was the phantom sensation of my chiffon dress hot against my skin. The hated taste of lip gloss in my mouth.

I was back at those fundraiser parties my parents brought me, to impress important people they didn't know but so desperately wanted to make friends with. Showing me off like a prized racehorse. _Our daughter Amanda, isn't she pretty? Why, thank you. Yes. We are so proud of her._

So many parties with polite, perfect people. They all just blurred together. Glittering banquet halls in shiny hotels, all dressed up to impress shallow, pretty people. Couldn't breathe in that dress. Couldn't breathe at all. So tight and tense, afraid of disappointing. Afraid of embarrassing my parents. They were counting on me, they said.

A handshake. A trigger.

A hot coal took up residence somewhere in my stomach, smoldering ashes I could taste in my mouth. The sweat slicking my skin was cold panic. Confusion. It felt like pushing a boulder uphill, fighting to separate this incredible swell of memories from reality.

I pulled my hand from Hermione's.

She smiled, uncertainly. Having caught my minor panic attack in the way my hand clutched hers too hard. Harry, too, noticed. His own childhood having made him particularly sensitive to sudden changes in mood. Seeing him made me think I had no right to be so upset. So weak that an innocent handshake was enough to . . . to scare me. I clenched my jaw to release some of the tension knotting in my chest.

_Calm down,_ I thought. _Calm down._

"Ron Weasly," the orange-haired boy chirped, not to be left out. I blinked, surprised to realize only a few seconds had passed and Ron had noticed _**nothing**_. Of course I knew who he was, but I smiled and nodded, folding my hands behind my back so that I wouldn't be expected to shake again. Stress formed a tightening fist around my heart. A dull ache.

My gaze slid to Harry, but he didn't look inclined to introduce himself. He didn't look inclined to speak at all. Those large, deep green eyes framed by his trademark round glasses narrowed. Flustering me even more.

"What's your business in _Hogsmeade_?" From Ron. It sounded like an accusation.

"Nothing," I said. "I'm . . . just . . . passing through."

_Smooth, Amanda._

Hermione elbowed him, mouthing _'rude!'_ and cast a sharp glance at the silent Harry. The other boy hadn't taken his eyes off me and that wasn't off-putting at all.

I kicked the toe of one boot on the ground, digging a small groove into the snow and said, "It was nice meeting you –" _sort of _"– but I'm in a rush. So . . . see you around?"

"Where are you off to?" Hermione asked at once, leaning closer as if she could physically keep me there just by gravitating. Her quick, eager curiosity snared by this new fascination. Me. The American in _Hogsmeade_.

I was never getting out of here.

"Just up the road," I said, gesturing vaguely with one hand. Honestly, I had no idea but I was too worn out to lie. Ron brushed orange bangs out of his eyes and made as if to say something but Harry cut in before he could get a word out –

"I've _**seen you**_ before."

Ron's mouth closed with a click.

The hot coal burning a hole in my stomach turned to ice.

And Hermione spun on Harry, a slight frown wrinkling the skin between her eyes. "Where?"

Irritation and impatience cracked. I said, "No, you really _**haven't**_."

"I have," Harry insisted. "I saw you."

I pulled my hands up into my jacket sleeves, skin starting to burn in the winter cold air. Wondered how suspicious it would look if I just turned and walked away. I wasn't feeling good. Still struggling against memories triggering emotions that felt like knives.

"Where?" I asked instead, unintentionally echoing Hermione. "Where have you see me before?"

A stiff silence descended; quiet punctuated by a furious wind that howled through the mostly empty street. Swirling snowflakes into little tornadoes of sparkling white. The smell of ice and frost and the sharper resin from the dark pine forest just past the homes and shops that made up this little magic village. Warm yellow lights began to blink on in windows as darkness fell. I trembled, my teeth starting to chatter as the cold cut straight through my thin spring jacket.

Harry's eyes met mine with eerie certainty and a current of familiarity rolled in my stomach. He looked so much like the actor it was unbelievable. So much like the actor but also like the boy I used to imagine while reading the books . . .

Ugh. Klaus had definitely not waited for me and now I was alone. So tempted to actually do it; turn and walk away. I wasn't comfortable with Harry's interest and wanted all three kids to just go away and leave me alone.

What surprised me is that it was Ron who seemed to pick up on my discomfort. Surprising because of how clueless he was just a minute ago. He cast an awkward glance down at the snow, then sideways to Harry which his friend saw but chose to ignore. From nowhere, I heard Giovanna's voice whisper through my memory: _'It's not random.'_

"Is . . . um."

Hermione snapped to attention. "Yes?"

"Is there anything happening here? I mean like, anything going on at _Hogwarts_ that's out of the usual?" There was _**always**_ something going on at that school, but I was hoping to find out exactly what year this was. I couldn't place where in the damn timeline I landed in. I didn't even know if I could trust the cannon – this wasn't me trapped inside the book. This was me in an alternate universe. Maybe nothing was the same . . .

"No, nothing," Ron said, lifting his shoulder in a shrug and dislodging the snow that'd settled there. Clumps of it broke off to fall down the back of his robes. He yelped and scrambled in a mad little circle.

Harry cracked a smile, and then snickered.

Hermione rolled her eyes but stayed focused. "Hogwarts is hosting the Triwizard tournament this year. It's not exactly odd, but it is an honor. Is that what you mean?"

The Triwizard Tournament.

Oh, thank you! I truly wished I was a bigger fan of the books, because my knowledge of this place had great, gaping holes in it. So recognizing the Triwizard tournament was like a blessing from above. The universe _**finally**_ cutting me a break. I knew where we were. I knew _**when**_ we were.

All one needs to find their balance again is to have a clue. I tilted my face up to the gray sky and sighed. Bad things always happened, but at least I wouldn't have to fend off a Basilisk or a creepy pink woman and her cursed detention-quill.

"The tournament," I echoed. "Of course. Thank you. I think I'll just . . . okay, what?"

Harry Potter was creeping me out. He was back to drilling holes in my forehead. Staring at me with a frightening intensity. He chewed on his lip, then said, "Who are you?"

"How about you tell me. Who do you think I am?"

Evasive and irritated. Anyone with even a lick of sense would have taken the hint; wonder what that says about him. No wonder Harry was a hero. He had no sense.

He pressed harder. "Don't know who you are. But I saw you and I think . . . I think I would recognize you anywhere."

Because that wasn't a creepy thing to tell a stranger.

Again _'It's not random'_ whispered through my memory.

_Shut up, Giovanna,_ I thought furiously. Wait . . .

"Let me guess," I said, speaking straight to Harry now. Never mind his friends, who looked mystified at what he was going on about. "You saw somebody who looked exactly like me, but dressed like she's going on safari with this look in her eye that makes you think she could take a man-eating lion?"

Ron, "Uh?"

"No," Harry said. "I saw someone who looks just like you run out of _The Three Broomsticks_ and chuck me into the snow. I saw it happen _**yesterday**_."

"In a dream?" Hermione asked, eagerness bubbling over. She took Harry's arm with both hands and gave him a little shake. "Harry!"

He shook her off and stepped forward, boots crunching on the hard-packed snow. I caught the smooth end of his wand peeking out from his robes and felt another small thrill of excitement but also uneasiness. A stark reminder that this fourteen-year-old boy had more power in a _**stick**_ than I had in all of me.

"Back. Up." I cautioned.

Harry blinked, actually seeming surprised. Not by my warning, but by himself. He advanced on me like he meant to threaten and that was not okay. He retreated a little and tried to recover by saying, "So, ah."

"You want to know who I am?" I asked coolly, my breath puffing out in a cloud of white.

Green eyes met mine.

"I'm the girl who's_** leaving**_. Goodbye." With that, I turned on my heels and walked away.

I half-expected Harry Potter to rush after me, and stiffened my spine in anticipation but Hermione's voice rose hot and annoyed at the way her friends totally mishandled the situation. They'd scared me off.

Ron sputtered out a reply I didn't catch as I was already halfway down the street – my long strides creating swift distance between us. I could imagine what he said, though. Not his fault. He'd hardly said anything. It was Harry who did it. Harry Potter and his weird prophetic dreams.

I slowed down at that. The wind whistled through the deserted street, bitterly cold. Burning my cheeks red.

_It's not random,_ Giovanna told me. Harry Potter saw . . . he saw Voldemort in his dreams. The great evil of this world.

He shouldn't have been seeing _**me**_.

–

I made it out of the little village without meeting anyone else. I had no real idea where I was going, and Klaus was nowhere in sight. Not that I expected him to be waiting for me just around the corner, but I was hoping that maybe . . . this time . . . he would be.

My boots _**crunch-crunch-crunched**_ on the deserted road and I crossed my arms, pulling my thin windbreaker jacket more snugly around myself. Trembling with cold and deep exhaustion. Even I knew that tiredness was a bad thing in this sort of weather, which is why I kept going. Plowing forward like I had somewhere to go.

Night fell quickly. Already it was too blue to see properly, my eyes straining to make sense of the twilight color. The wind stirred loose particles of snow, whipping them up into the air giving the illusion that it was snowing. A blizzard that came from below. It wasn't soft. These were crystals of ice that stung with quite a bit of force against the bare skin of my hands and face. I lifted tired eyes to the road ahead. Flurries reducing the visibility to a couple feet.

_**Crunch-Crunch-Crunch-Crunch**_

I hiked my shoulders up and stuck my nose under the collar of my jacket. The freezing winter wind harsh against my skin. I was shivering so bad that my jaw ached with cold. It didn't help that my heart was still hammering from the shock of memories that'd swamped my mind. Overwhelming at first, they were like images superimposed over my vision. I couldn't see. It didn't last long, but the experience was terrible. It made me feel like when the Black Box had a hold of me. Getting dragged helplessly along by some outside force. In this case, my own mind.

_**Crunch-Crunch-Crunch-Crunch**_

I let my hair fall forward to cover my ears, providing some minor protection against the freezing wind. Harry Potter said he saw me in his dreams. Admittedly a strange thing to say to someone but in this universe . . . it was possible. Did I believe in prophetic dream? Not back home but this was a new world with a new set of rules and I would have to just deal with it.

Giovanna had warned that there was some sort of _**intention**_ behind the worlds I landed in. An actual purpose. Despite what I'd said to Klaus in Constantinople, we had a reason . . . but that was only if Giovanna's word could be trusted.

And now Klaus; the closest thing I had to a friend – the jackass – was gone. What was his problem? I couldn't make any sense of his behavior. There were times where I could almost swear he was looking out for me, but then he did things like this. He would take off knowing I couldn't keep up. Why wouldn't he just wait for me?

Oh, I knew why.

He didn't care. That sounded harsh, but it wasn't as bad as that. I wasn't disliked; he just didn't particularly give a damn. Klaus owed me nothing. That might have been for the best, given that I knew what he did to people he owed. Niklaus Mikaelson didn't take being indebted to anyone very well.

_**Crunch-Crunch C-Crunch-C-Crunch**_

I listened to my footsteps, focusing my mind on the rhythm and the icy feel of snow caking the heels of my shoes. Trying to ignore my thoughts churning round and round, going nowhere fast. There was too much I didn't know, too much I didn't understand and a part of me wondered why I even cared. There was no great mystery that needed solving. I could just do what I always did and . . . go with it. Deal with things as they came.

Without thinking, I slid my numb hand over the hard bump in my satchel that was the Black Box. Felt one pointed corner digging into my palm. Immediately, the fist knotting in my chest loosened by a degree. Not a lot.

Enough.

_**Cru-Crunch Cru-Crunch**_

_**Cru-Crunch Cru-Crunch**_

I slowed down.

_**Cru-Crunch . . . Crunch . . . Crunch . . .**_

You have got to be kidding. The wind gusted, blowing furiously from the North. Flurries of icy flakes whirled, stinging little needles in the near total dark of the forest at night. The last of the blue twilight had faded into colorless night. Black on black, with only the deep snowdrifts offering any sort of perspective. The trees on either side of the road invisible.

I tilted my head, turning one ear up and listened intently. Hearing two sets of footsteps – mine and another – but too distracted to notice until right that second. There was no question what that meant.

I was being followed.

"Klaus?" I called back. The wind howled like a man bent on murder, screaming through the trees. Shaking canopies with so much force I could hear the creaking of wood. I shoved my hair out of my face with a single impatient sweep, and held it back so that it wouldn't just fall forward again. The strands were crusted with ice.

No more footsteps.

I stiffened and backed cautiously off the road. This was a well-travelled road so it made sense that there would be other people on it. But innocently going in the same direction as me gets awfully suspicious when it sounds like they don't want to be heard. The second sets of footsteps stopped when mine did.

"K-Klaus?" I repeated, voice hushed. Hoping.

Nothing.

Oh, god. I scrambled back, hurrying deeper into the forest but not too far. I dropped down at the foot of an immense furry pine and yanked my satchel around so I could reach inside. My head swam with the spiciness of wintergreen. Where was it? I shoved packets of granola bars aside, digging down to the bottom of my bag. The Black Box like a block of nothingness rested heavily at the bottom. Not what I needed. There? No. _**There!**_ A glint of dark metal.

Isabelle's knife.

I hadn't forgotten about it, there just wasn't any need for me to have it until now. I pulled the heavy military-issue knife from the bottom and flipped my satchel closed. Securing it so that nothing would fall out. I stood up, rising carefully and nearly blind in the blizzard. Using the trunk of the tree behind me to leverage myself, my body already stiffening in the subzero temperatures. Shivering so bad that flakes of bark rained down on my shoulders.

Needed to keep moving. Couldn't stop for too long.

Freezing to death . . . not exactly the most anticipated way to end this adventure. So many more dramatic ways to die. I held Isabelle's knife with numb fingers, pressing it into my chest and started toward the road. I wasn't sure if there was much point in trying to be quiet, but I did not follow my own prints. Instead circling around so that I wouldn't run smack into the person following after me.

My heart: _**thump-thump-thump**_.

I managed to scramble up a slight incline, momentarily alarmed because I didn't remember a hill and thought I lost the road. But no, it was right there. Still no suspicious noises, though. I could hear the rush of icy snowflakes brushing against my jacket, the terrible howling of the wind punctuated by trees creaking all around me. It was all so loud; I winced and turned my eyes up to the canopy of branches clacking and trembling. The trees sounded like they were going to break. Snap like matchsticks.

This was ridiculous . . . is what the old me would have thought. Don't be a baby. There's nothing out there.

The new me, the part of me that was changing – adapting – to the senselessness of my new reality as a trans-dimensional traveler . . . well . . . she wasn't so eager to dismiss a scare. I was sure I'd heard someone following, just out of sight. They stopped walking the moment I did, silencing the crunch of their own footsteps and I hadn't heard anything since then.

I felt eyes boring into the back of my head.

Paranoia spiked sharply and I spun, frozen hair whipping against my face. Breath wheezed in my throat. Eyes scanning what I could see of the forest. Nothing. Nobody.

I did a stupid thing, then. The joke is that I knew it was dumb . . . knew that every nitwit in every movie I've ever watched who did the thing ended up as zombie-chow. I did it anyway.

"Who's there?" I called into the darkness. My human voice tiny, insignificant words, against a backdrop of natural fury. The storm heaved, blowing more snow into the air to fuel this illusion of a blizzard. Trees swayed. I tried again, almost screaming just to make myself heard, "I know you're there!"

Isabelle's knife felt solid in my hand.

I never actually saw what was watching. I knew it was coming closer – the weight of some terrible presence advancing on me. But I never saw it.

A hand, hot as red iron closed over the back of my throat. Fingers curling around to the front and I screamed.


	22. Chapter 21 - All She's Got

**_*It goes without saying that The Originals and every other film, book or franchise that will be mentioned in this fanfiction belong to their respectful owners. I claim no ownership or association to any of the many "universes" that will be visited in this fanfiction.*_**

**Chapter 21**

**ALL SHE'S GOT**

* * *

"Oh my god! I killed Harry Potter!"

– **Neville Longbottom**

_Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_

J.K. Rowling (author)

* * *

A single strong hand closed over the back of my neck, fingers curling around to the front. Hot against my frostbitten skin, though they were probably not so warm. It only felt that way after so long in the dark and snow. The strength in that hand, however, was very real.

Isabelle's heavy knife a solid weight in my hand. The blade smooth and razor-edged. Having that knife changed things. Hell, it changed everything.

Heat coursed through me, fueled by fury.

Still reeling from the fear of being watched from some place deep in the woods, and the memories of our last world where I was grabbed so suddenly from behind and my throat was cut . . . my vision just sort of blinked out. I went totally blind and my body responded to the threat on autopilot.

A vicious backward sweep of my arm, Isabelle's knife hissing as it swept through the icy air and – _**whap**_!

Klaus caught my fist in one hand, slipping the knife from my frozen fingers with a careless twist of his wrist. Blue eyes flashed, bright in the night but without any hint of gold peeking through. He was calm, totally unthreatened by me and my little display of aggression. Relief and the release of survival-terror swelled so quickly I felt sick. But only for a second as anger of a different kind rolled beneath my skin.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I shouted, shoving Klaus away from me. Both hands flat against a lean-muscled chest.

"What is wrong with _**you**_?" he countered. "Skittish?"

Skittish. Well, that was one word for it. Actually no it wasn't . . . what?

"What the hell were you doing out there?" I asked instead. "Skulking in the dark like a creeper."

"I followed you from the village, love," Klaus said, tilting what was quickly becoming a familiar smirk. Part swagger, all open challenge.

"So you were there the whole time? Just watching?"

"The whole time," Klaus agreed, amused by me. He leaned forward, crowding my personal space and I felt my boots slide a little on the icy road. The smell of damp leather and smoke clung to his skin, oddly warm in the winter night. My heart turned over – a nice little somersault.

Clearing my throat, I moved away from the hybrid creature. "What exactly were you hoping to see?"

"Maybe I was looking after you," Klaus said, not seeming in the least interested as I continued to edge away from him. "Have you considered that? One little beating heart, all alone in the dark. No telling what else might be watching."

What else indeed. I crossed my arms over my stomach, huddling in my thin jacket and tilted my head up to look at Klaus. "So you see anything?"

"I _**heard**_ quite a bit," he said, with heavy emphasis. Oh, wonderful.

So he heard the little back-and-forth I had with Harry Potter and friends. It shouldn't have mattered, I was sure I said nothing Klaus wasn't supposed to know but he was already curious. I needed to steer his attention away from that line of questioning. "Okay, well, there's something else out there. Guess you're not as sharp as you let on, huh."

Klaus tilted his head, blue eyes sparkling. "No one here but me, love."

"No. Wait, are you sure?"

Klaus caught my wrists. Strong hands holding mine, eyes glinting with unabashed humor over the bridge of my knuckles. Cold, cold wind burned the exposed skin of my hands so that it was actually quite painful being held like that. I curled my fingers into my palms, forming fists to protect my vulnerable fingers from the worst of it.

"Let go of me," I said. The wind pushed long strands of hair into my face. Stiff and frozen, crusted with ice from the whirling blizzard.

"Or what, little mouse?" she said, passing his thumbs over the backs of my hands. "You'll scream?"

I gritted my teeth. "Klaus. Please, let go of me."

His little smirk widened. He released my wrists, lifting one finger at a time with painful slowness. The moment I could, I pulled my hands up into my sleeves and then stuck them under my armpits.

"You look cold," Klaus remarked, sticking his own hands into the pockets of his jacket. The leather was glossy with melted snow. His damp hair curling tightly against his skull, making him look even more dangerous. More attractive.

The big bad wolf. Oh, what sharp teeth you have . . .

"I'm telling you, there was something else out there."

And it wasn't him. I was so, so sure of what I heard and the horrible feeling that took me right before Klaus arrived. It was like in those old creature horrors. There was a monster. It was moving in, rushing straight for me . . . and then it just stopped. I couldn't feel anything anymore. And that was scarier.

What happened?

My eyes did a sweep of the road, nearly invisible in the furious white blizzard. The forest on either side, the black trunks of trees only just visible through the storm. I was freezing cold; would have traded my right arm for a winter parka but I still felt the sweat forming down the centre of my back.

Klaus must have picked up on my urgency. He straightened and took a deep breath of icy air. Head tilted slightly to the side, listening. I held my breath, waiting for him to find whatever was out there but as the seconds ticked on with nothing to show my heart sank.

Klaus didn't shoot me any judgmental looks. He didn't need to.

"Why would I make that up?" I said, a little helplessly.

The wind howled, wailing like a banshee out of the dark. Maybe this forest was haunted? Couldn't remember from the books.

"Let's go," was all Klaus said. He started walking and I could do nothing but follow.

Frustration burned so hot it hurt. Of course he would trust his own senses over mine. Hearing. Sight. Scent. He would know if there was anything out there, skulking about in the blizzard. Klaus managed to unearth invisible Predators before I even realized what world we were in. So if he thought we were alone . . .

Unless he was lying to me. I let my gaze slip sideways to Klaus.

Why would he lie?

A furious breeze gusted, whipping up half a snowy hill and sending it careening straight down on our heads. I buried my face in my jacket collar, waiting for the worst of it to pass before looking up again. My eyes stinging and watery from the cold.

We were on a road as it snaked through the forest, on our merry way to _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_. Because there was nothing at all odd with that statement. So yeah, there was a good chance this forest was haunted. Ghosts. Boo.

Klaus stopped suddenly. He pulled his hands from his pockets and looked back the way we'd come, eyes narrowed against the wind. Mouth pulled into a tight line.

"Actually, you know what . . . you're right," he said.

Hell hath frozen over. "Excuse me?"

"It's dark, Amanda, but not late." He glanced at me, just a hint of gold shining in his eyes and then turned to look in the other direction. Up the path. "What is it, like nine? Nine thirty? Where is everyone?"

"I don't know," I admitted.

That at least was true. Not what Klaus wanted to hear though. He was growing increasingly agitated and I wasn't sure what to do about it. Not even sure if it was safe for me to move a muscle. He was dangerous when in a _**good**_ mood . . .

"Oh? But you know everything, don't you."

Klaus rounded on me so fast; gold bleeding into his irises until there was not a trace of natural blue remaining. Startled, I shot away from him. He caught me before I could trip backward into the snowy ditch on the side of the road. Hands like hot steel closing over my upper arms.

"Let go!" I shouted. Slammed my hands against his chest, feeling the force of that hit vibrate up to my elbows. He didn't budge. Tremendous strength right there, knotting every square inch of his lean body.

"Stop. Stop fighting me."

I did. I didn't have to, knew I wasn't being compelled. But I did.

An undercurrent of emotion in Klaus' voice. The words were harsh. His grip on my arms firm, but not bruising. My initial panic faded very quickly and I lifted my gaze to his. Klaus was watching me, expression so impassive I knew it was meant to hide what he was thinking. Hiding behind a wall, as if that was the only place there was.

I lay my hands on Klaus' chest, fingers splayed wide despite the biting cold. I could feel the warmth of his skin through the heavy leather of his coat. Klaus' body still perfectly warm in the subzero weather. His heart beat there, thumping steadily into my hands. A powerful pulse that was not too fast. Not too hard.

A moment passed between us. I couldn't say exactly what it was, couldn't pin down what I was feeling in that second. Knew only that this was the closest I had ever gotten to another person. The closest I felt to a connection, and it was with Klaus Mikaelson.

Flustered, I meant to pull my hand away. I really did.

I could feel Klaus' heart beating – _thump, thump, thump_ – against my skin. Through the layers of muscle and bone and leather. The living warmth that radiating from him. Oh, how I wished he'd felt dead under my hands . . . cold and hard. But he didn't. He was hot. Alive. I could feel that strong, steady pulse like thunder and my own heart beating, beating, beating.

I realized something then that I should have seen from the start. Klaus was not as okay as he let on. He was scared, too, but with a power that made it impossible to show that part of him to me. The vulnerability. All that power – the immortal hybrid – caged him.

Without thinking, I slid my hands up over his chest to his shoulders. Lean, taught muscle under cool leather. I relaxed my body, releasing the tension that had been fear just a second ago. Not an act; the fear was gone. I curled my frozen fingers on either side of Klaus' neck, holding his face in my hands. Met Klaus' shining eyes, a flicker of uncertainty deepening the color to something almost like honey. They really did _**glow**_.

"We're fine," I assured him. "Klaus. It's fine. Whatever is happening here, we're not a part of it."

His mouth curled into a sardonic twist. "You think I'm frightened?"

"No," I said. "I think you're frustrated. I think you're reeling and starting to really feel it. The last world was . . . pretty bad. I thought I lost you."

Klaus let go of me, pulling away but not far and my hands slid off. Very slowly, he let the light in his eyes go out.

I couldn't tell if he noticed the tiny bit of manipulation in what I said. _**I**_ thought I'd lost him. _**I**_ was afraid he was gone. Making no mention of the things he must have been feeling when Giovanna separated us. He wouldn't have appreciated my sympathy. Might even drive a new wedge between us, but I knew he'd been scared. Terrified, even, that he was trapped in a world that wasn't his own. Forever.

We hadn't talked about it.

We wouldn't for a while yet. I knew this wasn't the time or the place for that conversation to happen and I was perceptive enough to have realized that Klaus' sudden, startling mood swings were just him trying to manage on his own. He didn't know what to do.

"Klaus." I reached for him.

He turned his back on me, and the moment was broken. It hurt. A tiny rejection that pierced me like a knife to the belly. It shouldn't have. I knew it wasn't personal; Klaus was just as likely to bite the hand held out to him as he was to take it.

He was already moving away. Long, ground-eating strides meant to put physical distance between us. In no way concerned whether I could keep up or not.

I hurried after him, slapping one numb hand over my satchel to keep it from bouncing against my hip while my feet plowed through the deepening snow.

"Klaus, wait!" I called. He didn't pause. "Look, you can't keep doing this. Taking off."

Ah-hah. He hesitated, half-turning to look back at me.

I was sure he thought I would call him out for refusing to open up to me when really all I wanted was for him to stay. He could stew and simmer as much as he wanted, so long as he stayed.

"Why?" Klaus said, sharply. The hint of a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth more warning than humor. "What keeps me with you, Amanda? A little bird with a pretty song. The only thing you have that I want is that Cube. Beyond that, what do I care?"

Ouch.

"You want the Black Box?" I countered, without giving myself even a second to accept the ache his words caused. "Then what are you waiting for? You can take it from me, and we both know there is nothing I can do to prevent it. So what's stopping you? You want my Box? Is that _**really**_ what you want to say to me?"

Klaus snarled; lips pulling back over white teeth but no fangs. His eyes remained their natural smoky blue and I'll be damned if he was just as beautiful like this; with the blizzard whirling dramatically around us. Crystal flakes catching in his hair, sparkling like stars on his coat. He would never be classically handsome, with the sharp dips and planes of his face and his perpetual sneer. He was harsh and hard and carried the lethal aura of a killer – not a predator, a true killer – with more than just a touch of delight in that difference. He never hid what he was, daring the world to hate and fear him.

It was hard for me to look away; awed by the primal, angry creature who should not exist . . . but did.

"Why do _**you**_ stay?" he asked me, ignoring the challenge I'd tossed. "For protection? A rather entitled thing to believe, isn't it? That I would protect you."

"I never thought that," I gritted out. But he _**had**_ protected me before . . . in Constantinople. He saved my life, while there must have been only seconds to do it. To my mind, that meant he did it without hesitation and Klaus was not known for being sympathetic.

"Than what is it? What possible reason is there for you to follow after me?"

I stood helplessly in the middle of the road, shivering and so cold that my jaw ached. Klaus' face could have been carved from granite, for all the warmth he emoted. What was he waiting for? What did he want me to say?

"I-I . . ."

Klaus curled a derisive sneer and walked away. A lump lodged in my throat – words catching so hard that I choked on them. Confused and hurting and wanting to chase after him. Not knowing what to do. The blizzard only seeming to dance around Klaus, without ever touching him.

"Klaus!" I shouted. He didn't stop.

I was losing him.

"You're all I've got!" I screamed into the storm. "You're all I have!"

My eyes blurred with tears, which froze right away in the open air. Icing my eyelashes.

The dark, solid figure ahead of me stopped moving. I fixed my burning eyes on the space between his shoulders. Shivering. Unable to believe what I just confessed . . .

Klaus did not say a word.

I spread my hands, desperation dictating my actions now. I couldn't seem to stop.

"Is that what you wanted hear?" I demanded, voice cracking under the weight of rolling emotion. Tears spilled over. "You're all I have. There is _**no one**_ else. If I lose you, I'm all alone and I'm scared and I'm trying to be strong but I don't know what I'm doing . . ."

I sniffed. Between the bitter cold and the crying, my nose was leaking.

Klaus held perfectly still, several yards ahead of me. The black of his coat starker than the surrounding darkness, making it so that he was peculiarly easy to pick out of the night. I could see him clearly, even through the lashing snow that blurred everything else. I saw how he tilted his head back, a nearly imperceptible motion.

"There isn't anyone else," he echoed, voice whipping all about. Carried by the furious wind so that I heard it as if from every direction. "It has nothing to do with me. I might have been anyone."

My heart sank.

He turned around. In a blink he was right in front of me. Vampire speed like the crack of a whip, he might have teleported as fast as he covered the distance separating us. I gazed tiredly up at the taller Hybrid, blinking at the sting of flurries falling into my eyes. The smell of wet leather and denim and smoke wafted off his skin. So did heat. His body warmth untouched by the cold; he felt like a furnace standing so close.

"You need me," he said.

"I don't want to be alone," I told him.

His mouth curled on a smirk. A flicker of pain in his eyes was all he allowed to show that this, at least, was something he understood. Klaus eyes slid down, fixing at my hip and that whiff of smoke strengthened.

Klaus frowned, bemused, "Your bag is on fire."


	23. Chapter 22 - Amanda the Muggle

**_*It goes without saying that The Originals and every other film, book or franchise that will be mentioned in this fanfiction belong to their respectful owners. I claim no ownership or association to any of the many "universes" that will be visited in this fanfiction.*_**

**Chapter 22**

**AMANDA THE MUGGLE**

* * *

"Percy wouldn't notice a joke if it danced naked in front of him

wearing one of Dobby's hats."

– **Ron Weasley**

_Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_

J.K. Rowling (author)

* * *

The Sorting Hat sat on a high shelf; the floppy, moldy accessory as benign as any other piece of clothing. I tilted my head a little, seeing the way the many loose folds formed a visage – there were slits for eyes. The heavyset brows. A longer, wider fold to form the mouth with lots of wrinkles all around. The face of a crotchety old man set in brown fabric.

It was a lot like seeing animals in the clouds. They were only shapes, figures that my mind thought resembled things that weren't actually there. A face? Humph. It was just an old hat that smelled like yellowed newspapers left in a box.

Casting a quick glance around to make sure no one was watching, I tilted my face up to the shelf it was on and whispered, "Hellloooooo?"

Nothing.

Apparently, Hogwarts' magical Sorting Hat had nothing to say to a lowly muggle. I snickered, enjoying that thought more than I had any right to. I was a muggle – a non-magical person – and I was in a place no muggle had ever been before. Hogwarts? No, better. Dumbledore's office.

_In Dumbledore's office with a frustrated vamp,_ I thought with amusement. Klaus wasn't angry with me; didn't even seem to think he should be, so I was leaving him alone.

He enjoyed being upset. This time he even had a reason.

I did not see who took us, instead waking from a sleeping spell already sitting upright in a chair next to a gently crackling fire. Wrapped in a soft blanket, there were soggy patches on both shoulders from where my hair defrosted, trickling icy water down into the wool. That first minute or so, it was impossible for me to make sense of what just happened.

The spell that was used to put me into a coma was so sudden, so expertly executed that I quite literally remembered _**nothing**_.

I heard Klaus' flat observation that my satchel was on fire and then I was here. No second between one place and the next. No sense of time passed. I didn't even blink.

I was just suddenly here; in a warm room, staring into the quiet face of a man with ash gray eyebrows like hairy caterpillars over kind blue eyes. And a beard so long he could have tucked it into the belt of his robes if he were so inclined.

Despite my edge – the things I knew about this world – I did _**not**_ immediately recognize him. Dumbledore looked like what the books described and yet . . . not. It wasn't anything I could put my finger on. He had the same large nose, kinked as if it'd been twice broken. The same angular, almost gaunt face in a web of wrinkles that were the roadmap of a long life lived. The billowing, deep blue robes of a wizard, with deep sleeves and a smattering of silver stars dusting the ends of those sleeves.

He looked like a grandpa. Only not.

The books did a poor job of explaining what it felt like, to be so near to the great wizard Dumbledore. Power thrummed all around him, crackling invisibly off of his skin as if coming from deep inside his body. A force so great that I felt it as a physical sensation. It wasn't painful or scary. Rather, it was like when I was a little and my brother showed me how to static a balloon and then hold it close to my skin. Letting the very slight charge lift the tiny hairs on the backs of my arms.

That was it. Dumbledore felt like being next to a static-y balloon.

He introduced himself, offering me a tiny china teacup and a plate of biscuits. All very friendly, as if I were a neighbor come over to spend a quiet afternoon.

Klaus was there. Sitting sullenly in the chair beside mine, a cookie in one hand. His tea untouched on the table in front of us. And I was grateful that this time, at least, he stayed. He was there. A dark, menacing presence but he was mine and he did make me feel safer.

All that was about forty minutes ago.

The plate of cookies and our drinks were still where we'd left them but Dumbledore, our host, was gone. A minor emergency, from the sound of it. Klaus and I were left in the Headmaster's Office with a mild admonishment to touch nothing while we waited for Dumbledore's return. But feel free to make ourselves comfortable. Have another cookie.

Translation? Someone was watching us. Probably even listening.

They wanted to see what we did when left by ourselves. And by unspoken agreement, neither Klaus nor I said a word to each other.

"Hello?"

I lifted my hand and touched the Sorting Hat. Poking it with a finger and then quickly scrambling back as the thing folded in on itself. The hat was fabric! Fabric with nothing stiffer inside to help keep its shape, so it collapsed like a blanket.

Oh, shit.

I killed the Sorting Hat.

Um. Um . . .

"Klaus!" I spun away from the high shelf. "You find anything?"

Klaus was where I left him. He reclined in his chair, long legs stretched out in front. Crossed at the ankles. My satchel open in his lap. From clear across the room, I could make out the void of nothingness that was my Black Cube.

"Would you – put that away!"

"D'you break something?" he retorted, with mild amusement.

No. Yes . . .

I'm sure the Hat was fine.

That wasn't the point. Klaus didn't move, didn't even look up from what he was doing. I wrapped the blanket more snugly over my shoulders, holding it in place. Still feeling chilled from being out in the snow, even though it'd been a while since then.

My hair hung in damp curls that were only just starting to dry, plastering it against my neck. I felt cold on the _**inside**_. The warm room heating my skin, but not quite sinking in any deeper. And even though I knew we were in Hogwarts – not the most menacing place we'd found ourselves – it was hard to feel safe. I hadn't felt safe in what felt like a very long time . . .

I hated this.

Huddling in my blanket, I rejoined Klaus in the sitting area of the headmaster's office. Knelt by his chair. He could hear me no matter how softly I spoke, but I needed to talk to him and my own hearing wasn't quite as sharp.

"Do you know what happened?"

Rather than say, Klaus lifted my satchel, turning it around so to show me the small hole burned into the pale lambskin. I could smell the charring. Sooty. Acrid.

_Your bag is on fire . . ._

It was the last thing I heard. But what started the fire? I stared blankly at the damage for a moment before turning my gaze up. "So, what? My bag just combusted?"

Klaus said, "Something _**inside**_ ignited and burned a hole. Makes me wonder what exactly you're carting around."

"Nothing," I said. He didn't look like he believed me. I cleared my throat. "Klaus, for real. I don't have anything."

Skepticism fairly bled off of him. Guess trust was still a long way off between us. Klaus yanked my satchel fully open and shoved the Cube aside to have a look around.

"Food," I said tightly. "I got food. Isabelle's knife and the Box. Don't be dumb. What could I possibly have with me that you don't know about?"

"You're sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure." I caught his hand in mine, stopping his snooping around. Packets of granola bars and minute-rice slid away. Absently, I noticed that I didn't have as many provisions as I thought. Klaus was touching the bottom, and the packages didn't even rise to his wrist.

He twisted out of my touch with an easy curl and opened his fist to reveal a short length of leather knotted with six crystal beads. My jewel charm. "What's this?"

Oh.

"Just a thing," I said. I knew he wouldn't leave it at that, so I explained, "Yes there's magic but the enchantments in the crystals are essentially a de-stresser. But if you're thinking _**that**_ caught fire when no one was touching it, you're wrong."

The magic in my charm was too mild for something that would have taken a nice kick to start.

Klaus wanted to debate this. I could see the rising mutiny in his smoky blue eyes but the quiet swinging open of the door silenced us both. I sprang to my feet, heart accelerating to a steady gallop. Dumbledore strode into the room, robes billowing around him in oddly elegant sweeps. His long beard swishing with every step.

He moved towards us, hands folded neatly into the sleeves of his robes without even pausing in the doorway to look around like any normal person would do. Intelligent, gentle eyes surveyed the scene. Landed first on our untouched tea and cookies, then on my open satchel on Klaus' lap and a tiny smile warmed his expression.

Klaus had shut my bag, flipping the top flap over so casually it might have been what he intended to do all along but Dumbledore's smile suggested he knew the real reason. Eyes-off.

Tempted to go sit down but not wanting to have to walk around the table to get to my chair, I froze. A spurt of pure panic hit me like a bullet.

Klaus was sitting, making me several feet taller and thus the place where eyes were naturally drawn. My stomach knotted and the desire to sit was so powerful that in hindsight, I'm a little surprised I didn't just plop down right there on the rug.

Anxiety hit at the most inopportune times, making me feel like a rabbit scared stiff. And I hated it.

_Get it together, Amanda._

Klaus rose, coming to stand with me and whether he meant it as a show of solidarity or not, I appreciated it. His solid, dark presence in my peripheral vision.

Dumbledore watched all of this impassively. Sharp eyes catching every nuance of what was happening without censure. I couldn't imagine what he was thinking. But when he turned his contemplative gaze straight on me, and I knew that I wasn't supposed to be here. This school, these people. All at once, the feeling of uneasiness made sense to me. I recognized what it was that threw me so badly . . .

I was an intruder. An imposter.

And the glint in Dumbledore's intelligent blue gaze told me that he knew it too.

* * *

_**POV - Klaus**_

"I hope the emergency wasn't anything too serious," Amanda said to the wrinkled old headmaster in his grand chair across from them. "I mean, to have called you away so suddenly."

The man smiled, crinkling the wrinkles around his eyes. Klaus said nothing, content to watch. Not their host . . . no, he was watching Amanda. Utterly fascinated by her chameleon-like transformation from the meek little shadow standing at his shoulder.

"An emergency is by its very nature a serious thing," the headmaster chided. "I do hope you were comfortable, while you waited?"

"Oh, yes," said Amanda. A curl of honey-blonde hair rolled off her shoulder, framing one side of her face as if by accident. "Having to wait was no trouble at all, headmaster. Your study is quite a bit warmer than standing out in the storm."

She was polite. And the smile she offered reached her eyes, making the gray in them sparkle merrily. An interesting skill; to so easily fake sincerity.

Her pulse betrayed her tension, though. The beat would skip whenever it was her turn to speak showing how little she appreciated this game – reinforcing Klaus' notion that Amanda hated to be the focus of attention. She absolutely loathed it . . . but interestingly enough, once there she managed so well that he knew without a doubt she'd been forced into this situation before.

He wondered when. How often and why. A stark reminder that he knew very little about his little human partner, and even less about her past.

"I will confess, I was not prepared for guests this evening," the headmaster went on, with an apologetic shake of his head. He cast a baleful look at the plate of cookies growing stale on the plate between them.

Amanda gave another soft smile, full of warm understanding for their hosts' dilemma. To have to entertain them, without proper notice that they were coming.

"Are we guests, then?" Klaus demanded, effectively inserting himself into the discussion. Polite blather-time over.

Amanda stiffened ever so slightly. A nearly imperceptive tightening of the muscles in her shoulders. Her delicious cinnamon/pepper scent soured with something like citrus. Apprehension.

Little mortal sensed danger.

"You are our guests," the headmaster assured them, with a glint of steel in his eyes. They were guests alright, but ones that would be watched closely. Guests with conditions. Klaus felt his hackles rise, chafing at the restraints.

A warm hand closed over his arm, the heat from her skin sinking straight through the leather of his jacket sleeve. Amanda. She didn't look at him. Her fingers were gentle. Her touch light. She gave a soft squeeze, only the slightest pressure. _Trust me_.

Amanda opened her mouth to speak, then hesitated. She allowed a beat to pass and then tried again, a little breathlessly. "Excuse me, sir. But why were we brought here, if not as captives?"

"Might I ask how you came to find yourselves on our doorstep?" Dumbledore countered mildly.

"We walked."

"Quite the long walk indeed, through the darkness and the cold."

"We were fortunate that your faculty found us when they did, or we might have spent the whole night wandering around in a blizzard. I . . . don't believe we've thank you for your hospitality."

The old headmaster inclined his head, graciously accepting her gratitude.

So that was the angle she was playing. Wayward travelers who'd wandered off, having lost themselves in a storm. All wide-eyed innocence.

Dumbledore's questions implied that they had no business being on that road, even if he didn't come out and say it, and Amanda had chosen to downplay their presence using the simplest method there was. She _**dismissed**_ the magical elements of their encounter . . . as any modern, educated girl would have done.

But the headmaster wouldn't leave it at that. "I am curious, as to how you came to be so far lost. The muggle roads are far from this place, child."

That word again. Muggle.

Dropped so casually into a sentence, Klaus knew it wasn't gibberish. Meant nothing to him at all, but it was a real word with meaning.

Amanda responded as if she hadn't even noticed the odd inclusion. "I'm sorry, headmaster. I don't understand the objection. As I said, we're glad to have found this place. We walked for such a long while that I was beginning to think we'd never find our way back." She wrinkled her nose, a rueful little smile. "I'm . . . not from around these parts."

Klaus snorted. No shit. Her accent was very clearly American, with the stiffer cadence that made her _'k'_ and _'t'_ sounds pop while flattening the _'r'_ sounds. _**He**_ could pass in this place, though he wasn't English either, but Amanda? Never.

Dumbledore chuckled, wry amusement at the needless observation she'd let slip. Amanda's cheeks flushed delicate pink. Her scent, however, didn't change. No embarrassment seeping through, to show that she hadn't meant to say what she did.

"May I see your device?" Dumbledore said, tone still politely interested.

Klaus leaned back in his seat, making the chair creak sharply. Just like that, playtime over. Tension cracked, sharp as a bolt of lightning. The Black Box. He couldn't tell if the headmaster had seen the Cube, or if he was only just assuming they had something. No matter. He tensed, preparing to kill the man. One quick twist is all it would take to remove his head.

"D-device?" Amanda's voice wobbled on the single word.

Klaus, "If we're not captives, than we're free to leave."

Dumbledore bowed his head, accepting that. But neither Klaus nor Amanda moved; both feeling the same suspicion though neither paying enough attention to the other to recognize their mutual agreement. They weren't leaving.

The wizened old headmaster stroked the length of his gray beard with long fingers. "However, the weather has turned for the worst since you arrived. Perhaps it would be best if you were to spend the night. Until the storm has passed."

Oh, of course. Until the storm has passed.

Amanda hesitated – this time for real. She seemed at a loss, her mind turning over possible responses. Her silence stretched too long, slipping from rude to outright offensive and Klaus could sense her anxiety mount as the seconds ticked and she still couldn't think of what to say.

"I'm curious, _**headmaster**_. How do you propose to stop us, should we decide to reject your very generous offer to wait out the storm?" The threat in Klaus' words was palpable. He said it to divert attention – Amanda was falling apart right beside him, the sound of her heart hammering wildly in his head – but also to gauge the man's response. What he said next would determine whether he would survive his next breathe.

Dumbledore pursed his lips. Eyes as blue as the glowing base of a candle flame sparkled with cunning and humor and kindness. He reached for the plate of biscuits, his thin hands plucking a single cookie from the top.

"If you would like to leave," said Dumbledore "then you may go."


	24. Chapter 23 - Nagini

**_*It goes without saying that The Originals and every other film, book or franchise that will be mentioned in this fanfiction belong to their respectful owners. I claim no ownership or association to any of the many "universes" that will be visited in this fanfiction.*_**

**Chapter 23**

**Nagini**

* * *

"Curiosity is not a sin, Harry. However, from time to time, you should exercise caution."

– **Dumbledore**

_Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_

J.K. Rowling (author)

* * *

**POV – Klaus**

_Dumbledore,_ Klaus thought scathingly. _What a ridiculous name for a human being_.

The Original Hybrid shucked his jacket, dropping it on the thin mattress of his bed. Relieved to be rid of it, actually. He arched his back, stretching muscles grown stiff from prolonged tension. There hadn't been time for rest this past week – not for him, or for her. The flair of heat between his shoulders knots loosening and he could feel the cramp at the back of his neck.

Had it really only been a week?

Klaus sent his mind back, counting days. Yes, seven days or thereabout seemed right.

It was surprisingly difficult to tell and he hadn't noticed until just now. But time between the universes was not linear. He remembered watching the sun setting over the empty suburbs or that eerily silent place. Sitting on the back deck of an abandoned house, listening to Amanda struggle to explain things she hardly understood while he watched the long, dark shadows slant over a bright green lawn. Seen the sparkle of stars overhead. And then the violent yank forward, out of that universe straight into another. The white glare of a noonday sun blindingly bright shining off the Sea of Marmar.

Calm twilight to midday from one second to the next.

Time was not the same between the universes. It would explain how they'd gone from a modern suburb to the sixteenth century. It was one of those things Amanda had tried to explain to him, but he'd ignored her. They were _**alternate**_ universes . . . not parallel.

Which begged the question; was time sped or slowed in certain universes . . . or were the past ones actually younger? It might not have anything to do with time at all. Another question. Did that mean that new universes were continually being created? And if yes, would there every be a limit to how many could exist simultaneously?

Sighing, Klaus raked long fingers through his hair.

He looked at his coat, stark black against the clean white sheets of his narrow bed. There were dozens of beds just like it arranged along both sides of the wide room. Two neat lines of identical mattresses on sterile steel frames. The walls were a combination of clean plaster and brick, with an arched ceiling supported by wooden crossbeams. There were windows spaced evenly down the entire length of the hall, but high. Not meant to be looked out of, so much as to allow natural light in.

It was an infirmary.

He and Amanda were spending the night and Klaus had the sinking sensation they might actually be staying for longer than that. No one appeared that have made the decision that they should, and Dumbledore's assurance that they were free to leave rang in his ears – taunting Klaus with the prospect of freedom.

Restlessness burned. He could feel it in his blood. Both halves of his nature craving the stormy night; the snow and the cold and the forest . . . the wolf in him howling for release. Clawing sharp nails against the underside of his skin. His vampire side for once in full-agreement; hating that there were rules. Boundaries. The vampire in him chaffed.

Klaus rolled his shoulders and very deliberately took a deep breath. The scent of cinnamon and pepper soothing the dual beasts vying for his attention. He was not calm, but it did feel as if the worst of the fury withdrew. Both sides of his nature distracted by Amanda's mouthwatering scent.

He fixed a stare on the bed next to his. Closest the wall, it was the last bed at the very end of the column. _**She**_ would sleep there.

She'd left her green coat folded at the foot. Like a spring leaf on the hospital-white sheets rather than the inkblot his jacket looked like. She hadn't just dropped it there – it was folded neatly, the sleeves and hood tucked in. Right next to it was the pale leather satchel where she carried everything she owned. The Black Cube. Amanda wore the satchel strapped securely across her chest, hand often resting on it as if needing to assure herself it was still there. Klaus often caught her touching the bag, without ever seeming to realize that she did. Just a slight brush of her fingers, probing gently to feel that the Cube was where she'd left it.

Klaus moved around the side of his borrowed bed, bringing himself closer to hers.

Using only two fingers, he lifted the top flap of Amanda's satchel. Her jewel charm slid out; tiny crystals knotted together glistening in the softly lit room. They glistened too well, his keen sight picking out individual lights shining like dust motes trapped within the crystals. Six in all, each a varying degree of red starting with a maroon darker than blood and each subsequent jewel following a series of lighter hues until the last.

He could feel the enchantment only as a reassuring warmth against his skin. There was magic here but as Amanda said: it was faint. A subtle force that would disappear the moment it was ignored. No real power.

She could keep her trinket.

Unbidden, his eyes were drawn to the perplexing Cube nestled solidly at the bottom of the bag. Packets of foodstuffs wrapped in silver foil a stark contrast; they brought the Cube into sharper focus and he felt a tremor of unease squeeze around his heart. A bolt of emotion he hadn't felt since he was a child.

The Box was not a true black . . . 'black' being wholly inadequate to explain the depth of that non-color. All light was absorbed by the Cube, allowing none to reflect back towards the eye. It gave the illusion that there was actually nothing there. A cube-shaped hole in the fabric of existence. Void. Like a piece of cosmic black hole broke off and fell into their hands.

Is that what it was? Black Hole?

No. Even if that were physically possible, the thing would be infinitely dense. A star collapsed into itself, pulled forever inward by its own gravity. The Cube was something else. A machine. Some technology none of them recognized, having originated from a universe more advanced.

Klaus let the satchel fall closed, hiding the Cube from his sight.

Amanda was returning; the washroom door swinging quietly closed behind her.

Suspicion coiled serpent-like in his chest. What if one of them knew exactly what the Cube was. The technology not-so-alien to someone who was from the world that created it. Amanda combed her fingers through her hair as she came nearer, the wheat gold strands tangled with damp. She used her fingers to tug through knots. A waft of soap-scent cutting over the natural sweet spiciness of her skin.

He knew very little about the girl.

He knew _**nothing**_ of where she was from.

Amanda was too tired to notice the speculative gleam in Klaus' smoke-blue eyes, or even that he was watching her at all. She wasn't blind – she did see him standing by her bed – but rather than shove him aside so she could reach it, she flounced down on the edge of his instead. A weary sigh slipped through slightly parted lips.

She closed her eyes and let herself fall backwards onto his sheets.

"I used bar soap to wash my hair in the sink," she said "and I know you're not supposed to do that, but I figured you wouldn't grill me over this terrible laps in hygiene etiquette."

Klaus smirked. Moved the satchel over and sat down on Amanda's bed – now his, he supposed.

"You're crashing," he told her.

Amanda's lashes fluttered. A hint of cool gray peeked out. "From?"

"The adrenaline high, love," Klaus said. "You've been riding it for days."

No argument. She might have already been aware. She let her lids fall closed and silence descended. Her breaths came in long, deep pulls that warned she teetered on the brink of sleep. She was pale, skin nearly translucent from exhaustion. Lips bloodless in the lamplight. Color like bruises shadowed her eyes.

Klaus let his gaze slip lower. Her chest rose and fell evenly, heartbeat accelerated but that would settle as she slept. Amanda wore a patterned sweater with sleeves that stopped at her forearms, leaving a nice length of skin to scrape and bruise.

The blood he'd fed her in Constantinople after the assassin cut her throat healed the mortal wound, but it also erased every bump she sustained before that. The sprained muscles and torn ligaments in her arms from being suspended by wire several feet off the ground. All gone, leaving her body as undamaged as it'd been the day she was born.

So the flurry of scrapes on her arms and the palms of her hands were new.

Amanda's knuckles were raw and red. The soap-scent continued to waft from her skin, slightly perfumed. She hadn't only washed her hair while in that washroom. She also took advantage of the soap to clean her wounds as best as she could. She had taken quite a beating these past few days.

With a start, he realized that not once did she complain about any of it. Not one word.

"Oh! I figured out what started the fire," Amanda said suddenly, startling him. She sat straight up as if pulled by wires. "While we were talking with Dumbledore, he said something and it got me thinking. I think I know why my bag caught fire."

Klaus didn't respond.

Amanda waited a beat, to see if he would and then went on, "There's a ward around the property. Probably even extending down past the village, I don't know. This whole area is inside a giant magic-bubble-thing. It's meant to keep people out. It's why Dumbledore made such a big deal about us being there. We walked straight through the force field."

"Force field," Klaus echoed. He sat back, leaning away from the human girl whose eyes flashed with irritation at the mocking in his voice.

"Whatever you want to call it. Are you listening to me? Has to be the Box that did it. Somehow it let us pass straight through the magic like it wasn't even there and then it got hot. Like an engine overheating."

Uneasiness crawled through Klaus' subconscious, irritating his already frayed patience.

Mistaking his silence for skepticism, Amanda's temper snapped. "You're the one who said something inside the bag ignited which burned a hole. I have food. A stupid jewel thingy and a knife. None of those things are known to just spontaneously combust. There was no fire. The smoke you smelled was from _**burning**_. Not flames. You have a better idea?"

"No," he said, just as sharply. That rolling restlessness couple with the same uneasy tremor he always felt thinking of the Black Cube. Klaus didn't know what to think. Could make sense of what he was even feeling. "It doesn't bother you that there's too much we don't understand about your magic block?"

"Sure. What are we talking about?"

Irritation flared hotter. "Where's it come from? Who built it? What for? You have this _**thing**_. You just assumed you knew what it can do, through what we've seen already."

Amanda chewed a lip, absorbing his words. Those changeable eyes – sometimes blue, sometimes gray – locked with his. Calmly. Finally, "Not much else we can do. I know that's not what you wanna hear, but I'm not as complacent as you seem to think. We're biding our time, not coasting Klaus."

Felt very much like they were coasting.

Amanda's calm grated harshly against Klaus' own senses. Not only that twitchy restlessness he lived with but a stronger sensation of being about to burst. As if he were trapped in his own skin. Tightening. Tightening.

"We're fine here," Amanda went on, oblivious to the storm roiling in him "we are going to rest. Eat. Get our strength back and then regroup."

Klaus lifted a dark, dangerous glower at the human across from him. "Is that an order?"

Amanda shot him a cheeky grin. "Nope. It's a suggestion."

Like hell. He continued to stare, eyes smoldering with enough heat to melt glass but Amanda just sat. Not pushing back against his rage but not crumbling beneath its weight. A benign smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. _Come on, Klaus. Just let me have my way._

Such a disarming expression.

* * *

**POV – Amanda**

I wasn't lying when I assured Klaus that I wasn't complacent.

He would have heard any lie, making it a spectacularly bad idea when trying to deescalate his rising agitation. Oh, I noticed alright and I did what I could to calm him.

Just because I wasn't lying didn't mean I had any idea what I was saying.

That worried me more than I cared to think about. A fresh swell of exhaustion settled in my bones. How long would I be able to control him? How long would I have to? Klaus was volatile. Explosive. I was still trying to deal with the mess that was my life, now. I did not have the strength to carry Klaus while I was at it.

The blizzard blew itself out in the early hours after midnight. Clean moonlight shone through the high windows. Bluish bars that cut through the empty infirmary hall. Klaus and I had unofficially switched beds. Too tired to climb back into my own, which was closest to the wall, I just snuggled down under the blankets of the bed I was already on. The sheets pulled up to my chin, I fell straight asleep.

Not sure what woke me. I was awake.

I turned my head, blinking drowsily in the blue-dark.

Klaus was still sleeping. Bathed in one of those beams of moonlight, his pale skin fairly glowed. He looked ethereal there in the darkness. The sharp planes of his face accentuated in glow and shadow. Eyes closed. He was not relaxed. His whole body tight like a coiled spring. Senses attuned to every whisper of sound, like I a man who expected to be attacked while he slept. Who'd been attacked like this before and taught himself to remain vigilant – even when at his most vulnerable.

I felt sympathy. I felt . . . I don't know.

A cool breeze whistled through the room and, sighing, I slid deeper under the blankets.

My dry eyes itched with tiredness. It felt _**good**_ to be allowed to lie down.

_Tsssssss-sssss-sssss_

I started back to full consciousness. Sleepy lethargy gone in a blink.

What was that? Just the wind. No, for real. What was that?

Is there anything more ominous than a sound out-of-place in a dark room? My heart did a quick double-thud and I listened. I didn't hear the sound again. My gaze slid back toward Klaus, only four feet away. I could see him breathing through the rise and fall of his chest. His black coat a shapeless patch of dark hung off a hook, my satchel safely hidden behind it.

Without turning my head, moving only my eyes I scanned the infirmary.

Nothing. The eerie shapes of shadows, unfamiliar furniture that made everything seem sinister. But they were just beds. Medicine cabinets and privacy curtains around particular beds. The moonlight shone brilliant, pre-dawn blue. Nothing moved.

We weren't alone.

"Klaus!" I hissed, as loudly as I dared. "Klaus! Wake up."

I heard the squeak of mattress springs. Shot another swift look his way and my mouth fell open in disbelief as he just sighed and turned over. Now facing away from me.

No. Way.

I sat bolt straight up, my sheets falling down around my waist and stared at one of the most powerful creatures the world – his world, at least – fast asleep like he hadn't a care. As if I hadn't said anything. I slipped out of bed, the floor freezing cold beneath my feet and shoved both hands into his shoulder.

"Wake up!"

His breaths hitched when I shoved, but nothing else. Was he spelled? "Klaus, what's wrong with you? Can you hear me?"

_Tsssssss-sssss-sssss_

_Tsssssss-sssss-sssss_

The white fabric curtains suspended over a bed further down rustled. A breeze blowing over the loose folds, making them move. The slithery sound of something big, something heavy sliding over the floor hissed and every nerve in my body shot with the desire to run. Run away. Sense overrode that hit of adrenaline and I froze, instead. Heart hammering. Lungs on fire from holding my breath. I did not move a muscle, just listened.

A long, serpentine shadow slid up the far wall. Black against the blue glow of moonlight.

Eyes followed that length. Huge. So long, it seemed to go on and on and . . . the infirmary door clicked shut behind the creature. It was out of the room.

"Oh, god," I breathed. Nagini.

The name surfaced in my mind, like words rising up from the bottom of a pond. Nagini. From the books. From the movies.

Voldemort's snake was in Hogwarts.


	25. Chapter 24 - I Couldn't Have Kidnap

**_*It goes without saying that The Originals and every other film, book or franchise that will be mentioned in this fanfiction belong to their respectful owners. I claim no ownership or association to any of the many "universes" that will be visited in this fanfiction.*_**

**QUICK WORD FROM DAYSTORM – **Hiya peeps! I would just like to give a quick shout-out to the wonderful and brilliant LadyErised for creating the most amazing Edge of Tomorrow "Official" playlist for me.

Each song so accurately reflects the emotion of this story, while playing off of Klaus and Amanda's character dynamic. I find myself writing to this playlist and it always gets my heart pumping. I tried to place a link on my profile page, however FF is apparently no longer allowing links to anyplace outside the site. lol I'll think of something.

This chapter is being dedicated to LadyErised.

Best,

DayStorm

**Chapter 24**

**I Couldn't Have Kidnapped Quasimodo?**

* * *

"Just because it's taken _you_ three years to notice, Ron, doesn't mean

no one _else_ has spotted I'm a girl!"

– **Hermione Granger**

_Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_

J.K. Rowling (author)

* * *

Hogwarts castle was cold at night.

Long, eerie shadows cut over the uneven stones of a corridor that seemed to go on forever. My boots tapped softly on the floor, hardly echoing at all. Everything seemed unreal in this silent period right before dawn. More sharply defined, like the whole world had been sketched using a tine-tipped pen. It brought everything into brilliant focus and yet at the same time it was like my eyes couldn't make sense of this in-between color of bluish light. All those sharp, precise lines hazed in my vision. Blurring slightly.

I listened for the heavy slither of a python's scales. It was so quiet.

The blizzard died down to only a whisper of wind and snowflakes. Nagini was in the school and I was by myself, chasing after her while my heart _boom-boom-boomed_ in my ears. I wasn't scared. Total opposite, it was strangely freeing to be out here in the early hours of the morning. For once not running away, I was running _**after**_ something. Running toward.

WHACK!

"Eep!" I skipped away. The window rattled, distorting the bright moonlight glow and I blinked. A snowball? Did someone throw a snowball at the window? My heart, all a flutter just a second ago began to pound in alarm.

"Is someone there?" My voice echoed hollowly in the blue dark. Emptiness reflected back at me.

_Is someone there?_ Well, there went my horror-film trope. Was one cliché enough, or should I put on a pair of heels and snap my ankle trying to run, too? I was plastered against the far wall, not quite sure how I got there. The stone cold at my back. A row of gothic, sharp-arched windows across from me. And there, a wet splatter on the glass. Ice dribbled from the centre of the splat.

Very slowly, I peeled myself off the wall.

Dead. Silence.

I moved to the centre of the wide corridor, my own shadow pulling out ahead of me. I thought of Isabelle's Knife, tucked safely away in my satchel under Klaus' coat. No use to me there.

Something moved; a flicker at the edge of my peripheral vision. Shadows where there should have been nothing and creeps prickled over my scalp. Raised the fine, translucent hairs on the backs of my arms. Awareness. I very suddenly wasn't alone anymore.

"Are you lost?" the voice came from the end of the hall, solidifying those creeping shadows into substance. A shape.

He became clearer as he neared, wearing the Hogwarts uniform beneath the flowing black robes of a wizard. It was too dark to make out the House Crest stitched into his clothes, but the yellow bars on his tie told me where he belonged. I released the breath I hadn't realized I was holding. The boy passed swiftly through a beam of liquid moonlight and I saw his face. It was _**him**_! The boy from the inn; the one who watched me from across a smoky dining room.

"What are you looking for?"

"I . . ."

The boy tilted his head, a sharp smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. He wasn't the same as I remembered. Not right. His eyes were seemed inky dark. Shadows causing them to appear sunken into his skull. His face gaunt; like skin over bone. Standing so near to me, he was several inches taller than I was but like a scarecrow. I got the unsettling impression that if I peeled back his skin, there would be only straw inside.

"Come with me," the boy said, holding out his hand. Long, narrow fingers. "I'll show you."

My throat burned. "Show me what?"

"Hurry."

As if my feet worked independent of my body, I took a step. I didn't want to.

"Amanda."

I spun around, alarmed by the strength of that voice resounding through the hushed stone hall even as I registered the familiarity of this new voice. Klaus. He was back the way I'd come from, bathed in a slanted beam of brilliant moonlight. Fierce and beautiful.

Again, "Amanda."

Calm. Eerily still. He said my name and I knew he was calling to me, waiting for me to come to him. But there was no inflection in his voice. No emotion. And the total absence of feeling in a man who felt everything so passionately . . . I hesitated.

"Come away with me," the boy whispered in my ear, breath cool on my skin. "I know what you're after."

Dreamily, "What is that?"

Klaus' eyes flashed. A dark color; amber. The menace in his gaze palpable. A single bead of sweat trailed a hot path down over my neck, the droplet as solid as a finger trailing over my skin. The Hogwarts boy edged closer. "Ignore him."

I couldn't do that. Ignore him? I cared about him.

I stared at Klaus, the boy at my back crowding me. The hybrid monster was standing so far away . . . not far enough. It was a distance he could cross in an instant. It wasn't right. Not right. But it wasn't Klaus causing the flutter of terror like wings in my chest.

"Get away from me!" I shouted, jerking bodily away from the boy. His hands closed over my arms, flesh cool and slick on my skin.

The boy was gone. In his place: _Nagini_.

I screamed.

Brown and green scales coiled, slithering with a sound like feathers. She was huge! I screamed again, crying for Klaus but the Hybrid was nowhere. Nagini wound her cold body around my legs. The heavy rush of her scales sliding over stone. Yellow, evil eyes. No! No! I slapped my hands into her body, feeling only solid muscle.

Her mouth opened. Pink, puffy flesh filled my vision, and two long fangs slid forward.

**XxXxXx**

I felt like crap.

My sleep was plagued with nightmares. I would start awake, sweat beading my face and cold beneath my sheets. It would take a few seconds for reality to slip safely back into place but once it did, I would lay back down and huddle. Eyes fixed on the shapeless black patch that was Klaus' coat hung off a hook between our beds. My skin crawled.

Eventually, exhaustion would drag me down into sleep. And, inevitably, into another bad dream.

The sun rose. Hogwarts stirred into wakefulness as hungry kids started making their way to breakfast and even though I hadn't gotten nearly as much rest as I would have liked, it was a relief to get up. Klaus was already gone. His bed unmade, sheets sliding off the edge but his coat was still there and I felt the strangest glow of happiness seeing it.

I slipped out of bed, full bladder pinching with urgency. My feet cold on the floor, I slipped them into my boots and zipped them up. It did feel amazing to have been able to sleep in an actual bed – even if it was only a thin mattress on a metal frame. To actually lie down, horizontal for a few hours no matter how restless my sleep was.

There was a small bathroom at the front of the Infirmary, and I'd used it the night before. Washing my hair in the sink. Scrubbing my face with damp hands because let's be honest; that's all I had. There were no towels in there.

I took Klaus' coat off the hook and grabbed my bag. Palm tingling with the feel of warm leather against my skin. It smelled like him. Like wood smoke and grass and, faintly, the dark tang on blood. That little tingle spread from my palm up through the rest of my body. Excitement.

Every now and again, I got the chance to stop and realize the incredible situation I was in. It was hard and exhausting. Terrifying. This wasn't an adventure, it was a gauntlet. Every world a challenge and there would be more. Many, many more after this one and the scariest part was not knowing if I would ever find my way home. But at the same time: Klaus Mikaelson. I was on this journey with an Original and that was not a little thing.

Klaus – Mikaelson – was – _**real**_.

And that . . . that was wonderful.

I put the coat back and slung my satchel over one shoulder. The Black Box was in there and I wouldn't leave it just lying around. There were noises now coming from other parts of the school. Good morning Hogwarts.

My footsteps clipped sharply, way louder than they'd been in my dream the night before reinforcing the certainty that this time, I was awake. I slammed into the small washroom at the end of the hall, bladder pinching with need –

– and stopped dead.

Funny, I'd just been thinking of him.

Klaus was in the washroom cleaning himself up and I was greeted by the sight of a pale, lean muscled chest. A naked chest. My gaze dropped and my breath sort of . . . stalled. Black jeans hung low on his hips, revealing every square inch of acceptable skin. I mean, any more exposed flesh and we'd have been intimate. Oh my god. My last coherent thought before my brain fizzled? Gratitude.

How embarrassing is that?

Klaus was ripped. Perfect, hard stomach I could have run my hands over. Tracing the ridges of his abs with eager fingers. Tiny pearls of moisture speckled his skin; not sweat, it was water from the tap I was only vaguely aware was still on.

Klaus' body was taught, lean and hard. A black tattoo of birds in flight swept over his shoulder, accentuating his subtly dangerous beauty. I often thought of him as wolfish – restless and pacing – but there was no wolf there. Klaus was all man.

And I liked what I saw.

Liked it too much.

"Ho-ly shit," I gasped, cheeks flaming hot. "I am so sorry!"

Not really. I couldn't seem to pull my gaze from his body . . . and I tried. I really did try to move my eyes but they were super glued to his naked chest.

And I swear I heard the amusement in Klaus' voice. "Did you need something?"

Nope. My mouth went dry. No, there was nothing I needed. Absolutely not.

I blinked and that seemed to break the spell. My eyes slid up to his face and I swear if my cheeks got any hotter my head would have melted right off my shoulders.

"Um, bathroom," I said, kinda helplessly. "I mean, I need to use the bathroom" and hurriedly added "but it can wait."

No it couldn't. My bladder was about ready to explode.

Making no attempt to hide the smirk twisting his expression, Klaus casually reached over and grabbed his shirt off a rail. He took his time, too. Deliberately stretching so that I could watch the smooth slide of skin pulling over muscle hard as marble. The slight twist at his waist, which nudged his black jeans a half-inch lower. Not too much. Enough to grace me with a tantalizing glimpse of a hip bone peeking out.

Klaus really was gorgeous and this close to him, I could feel the heat from his skin soft on mine.

I swallowed hard and looked away. My eyes rolling first to the left, and then straight up. Bathroom ceiling was pale wood beams. Hmmm. Hadn't noticed when I was in here yesterday.

"Safe to look now, love," Klaus said.

I dropped my gaze in time to see that last pale length of skin disappear beneath navy blue cotton.

I cleared my throat. "You might have locked the door."

"You might have knocked," Klaus returned.

And that was it. Not much more to add, really. We stood there, essentially loitering in a doorway and it was awkward. Klaus cool and amused, waiting for me to move so he could get out. Tiny smirks flicking in and out as he absorbed the ridiculousness of the encounter. I was just plain embarrassed. Cheeks still stinging from all the blood rushing to the surface.

"So, are you done? With the washroom?"

"Yes."

Pause. "You think maybe I can have some privacy?"

"I think that can be arranged."

He was laughing at me. He also wasn't moving; standing dark and too big for the small space. My gaze slid to his left shoulder, where the smooth sweep of birds was tattooed into his skin. A little more to the right and the sharp 'V' of his neckline dipped just far enough to gift anyone who cared to look with a tantalizing hint at what lay beyond. He had necklaces; dark leather and wood ropes. A glint of metal. Modern accessories, these weren't some ancient relics from his past.

"Amanda."

"Hm?"

"Move."

Oh. Oh!

I scrambled out of the way, embarrassment making that final leap into straight-up mortified. Duh. I was _**literally**_ blocking the door. Yeah. I moved but not by very much and Klaus didn't wait for me to back up more. He shoved through and then actually stopped _**right there**_, pressing me back into the doorframe without needing to touch me at all.

He had been washing when I interrupted. I could smell the soap on his skin.

"Klaus?"

"Hm?"

"I kinda can't breathe."

Totally true. But only because I was holding my breath to keep from touching him. He was _**that**_ close.

With a snort, he slipped the rest of the way out of the washroom. I sighed, both immensely relieved but also kinda disappointed. Not that I would ever – ever – say that out loud. Especially not within earshot of the object of this humiliating scene.

I shot a glare at the back of Klaus' retreating head and then quietly shut myself in the washroom. Slid the wiggly bolt lock closed – mostly on principle. I didn't really think anyone was going to barge in here after me. The faucet was still on, spraying a messy stream of lukewarm water into the basin. I could hear the rattle and clang of old pipes behind the walls.

I turned the water off. Looked at myself in the shiny mirror right over the sink and groaned. Forehead met glass with a soft _thunk!_

My mind spun. Walking in on Klaus wasn't so bad. He had his shirt off; it's not like I saw him using the toilet. But my heart was pounding like it was trying to break free and run away. I could feel that beat throughout my entire body. Get a grip, Amanda. I'd seen shirtless guys before and it was not that big a deal. So why was I so embarrassed?

Klaus had a body you could take a bite out of. He was delicious, sure. I would give him that.

I lifted my face from the mirror, meeting my own reflected gaze there. My eyes were more blue than gray today, lending an almost smoky flavor to a color that was usually so pale. Smoke blue. Storm blue.

"Infinite number of universes; infinite number of men," I said, very quietly. Water dripped from the faucet, splashing with a sound that was strangely musical in the small washroom. "I couldn't have kidnapped Quasimodo?"


	26. Chapter 25 - Fireheart

**_*It goes without saying that The Originals and every other film, book or franchise that will be mentioned in this fanfiction belong to their respectful owners. I claim no ownership or association to any of the many "universes" that will be visited in this fanfiction.*_**

**Chapter 25**

**Fireheart**

* * *

If it rains, you'll be the first to know.

– **Lucius Malfoy**

_Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_

J.K. Rowling (author)

* * *

For someone who hated to be the centre of attention, going to breakfast was an interesting march. Klaus had left while I used the washroom, making it so that I was alone when I came out. A skinny girl in a blue jeans bopping along in a stream of black wizard cloaks. I let the crowd carry me; ending more than a few interested glances. People were curious by my presence, but since I was already inside the school everyone just assumed I was supposed to be there. Nobody stopped me.

No one even talked to me.

To be honest, I was okay with the assumption. The longer I could hide that I was not a guest here . . . the longer I could hide that I wasn't even a witch . . .

How would people treat me, when it became known that I was only a lowly muggle? Would Dumbledore let students believe that I was one of them? Or would there be some grand announcement in front of the whole school, where everyone turned to stare at me; judgment and censure burning in hundreds of pairs of eyes.

The Hogwarts dining room was even more wonderful than I imagined!

I tried to prepare myself but like most things, the movies just didn't do it justice. I stepped through those immense double doors – slammed by the noise of a bustling cafeteria full of kids – and gasped. Delighted. It was snowing! Fat flakes, sparkling like Christmas in the pale sunshine beaming through clouds that were smooth as cream over our heads. Like I could reach up and touch them, and the clouds would melt over my hands.

The Hogwarts dining room was divided into five distinct areas. On a raised dais at the far end of the room, furthest from the entrance was a single wide table. Chairs like thrones arranged so that the people sitting in those esteemed spots would look out over the entirety of the hall.

Four long tables spanned the entire length of the cavernously large room. One for each of the school houses and it was a fairly startling sight to see an entire school segregated this way. Even if I hadn't already known how this was arranged, I would have been able to tell where people belonged. The overall color was black – black cloaks cut with gray but it was the splashes of color that set them apart from each other.

Emerald. Blue. Yellow. Scarlet.

Each table swarmed with kids wearing the same of each color, giving the impression that the room itself was cut into four distinct classes.

Overwhelmed, I look toward the faculty table. Headmaster Dumbledore was there, wearing a look of sharp satisfaction as he surveyed his domain. Blue eyes sparkled with the same intelligence I recognized the night before. It was as if he could sense my presence; or my scrutiny. Dumbledore met my gaze and smiled.

I smiled back, forcing warmth into my eyes.

People smiled with their eyes. I knew this from the multitudes of parties I was forced to attend growing up, where I needed to make a good impression. A smile needed to reach your eyes to look genuine. It was part of what I hated about my upbringing – it was all so fake – and I hated needing to rely on those little tricks now.

I did not trust Dumbledore. He was a manipulator, too, and it was important for him to think that I believed his offer of sanctuary. He could not suspect my suspicion. It helped that Klaus also distrusted the headmaster's sincerity. We needed to stick together and for the first time since I met him, I actually felt like Klaus was on board.

I found him eating toast and jam at a small table set for us off to the side. Just this little table between scarlet Gryffindor and the wall. As good a place to put us as any. I sank into the chair across from Klaus, legs aching. Overused muscles protesting days and days of unaccustomed use. High school gym hadn't quite prepared me for a life on the run. Go figure.

Klaus had a stack of toast on a plate in front of him. A bowl of raspberry jelly between us and a pitcher of orange juice to share.

"Why are you hoarding breakfast?" I said, reaching for the toast. He let me steal a slice without commenting. He wasn't even paying attention, gaze roaming restlessly over the heaving crowd. Tension crackling the atmosphere around him.

_What happened?_ I wanted to ask. Instead, I kept my mouth shut and waited to see what he would offer on his own. If he would offer anything at all . . . the little interlude when I caught him shirtless that morning a funny pause in what was an otherwise dramatic week. Klaus' moods seemed to swing wildly, which I supposed would label him as unpredictable but I wasn't so sure. If anything, Klaus seemed to be playing it up.

He was focused now, though. His eyes sparkling like crystal, with no gold bleeding into the color. His gaze steady while it swept the room, settling nowhere and I knew he was listening. Alertly tracking conversations that were only background buzz to me. Hearing all of it. His senses like radar and it was fairly fascinating to watch, though there was nothing to see.

So I stayed quiet, not wanting to distract his attention.

The crowd heaved and a wild cheer rose up over the babble of voices. Kids screamed and laughed, hands rising up over heads to applaud the appearance of a newcomer. I craned my neck, curious to see what was going on. Klaus only smiled softly.

Another wild scream and a boy appeared over the heads of the crowd, seeming almost to be hovering. He bobbed a bit and I laughed. They'd lifted him up onto their shoulders. Messed copper-brown hair fell into his eyes. A pale, handsome face. He was laughing too, excited and happy by what was going on and as the crowd slowly turned him around the amusement I felt caught in my throat.

My mouth fell open.

Even though he was taller than the fourteen-year-old Harry Potter, I still assumed it was Harry up there. It wasn't. Yellow Hufflepuff tie flapped loose. Gray eyes sparkled in the bright morning light. And only then could I make sense of what the crowd was screaming.

"_Cedric! Cedric! Cedric!"_

Cedric. Diggory.

The name popped into my head with a click. A puzzle piece snapping into place. I recognized him from the Three Broomsticks Inn, as the boy who'd been sending me little looks. The boy who'd starred in my nightmares the night before, transforming into Nagini every time. No clue what that was supposed to mean but a weight settled in my chest.

"_Cedric! Cedric!"_

No idea why they were cheering. I craned my neck a little more, curiosity burning furiously and that had to be good news. Meant I was better rested than my sore body was saying. Being fed helped, too. Unbidden, an image of Klaus without his shirt on flashed through my head. Pale, smooth skin stretched tightly over hard muscle. His body sculpted, lean but strong. Coiled power that was at once feline, but still made me think of a young wolf.

I glanced at the Hybrid, quiet as a shadow at our table. Unsurprised to find him already watching me.

"This isn't right."

Klaus lifted a condescending brow. _No shit_.

I bit my lip, not sure how to explain myself. Not sure even what I meant to say. I turned back to the crowd and Cedric's handsome face above it all. Dumbledore was still watching us. I could feel his eyes boring into the back of my skull. A sharp reminder that I needed to keep my cool.

I was good at working a crowd. But I had a reasonable expectation of my own limitations. Could I manipulate someone so brilliant – the master manipulator himself? Every instinct I possessed warned that Dumbledore was a threat, no matter how trustworthy the movies made him out to be.

I licked my lips, resisted the urge to lean suspiciously across the table and said, "If I asked you to get us out of here, could you do it? Both of us."

"You want to leave?" Klaus braced one arm over the back of his chair. Voice conversational and I appreciated that. To anyone watching, we would look like we were just talking. Not conspiring.

"No," I admitted. "Not yet, but if we had to get out of here, do you think you could it?"

Klaus didn't even dignify that with a response. Of course he could.

"I want to give you the Box," I said to him, ignoring the way Klaus' brows shot up. "You can protect it better than I can and I think Dumbledore knows we have something with us. I'm worried he might try and take it."

Fear threaded through my emotions, coiling like a serpent around a pole. My heart gave a hard double thud. It was our most precious belonging. Our only way out of this place. Klaus could get us out of the castle, even out of the country but the Cube was the only way we were leaving this universe.

Nobody could be allowed to take it from us. I wondered if I had it in me to kill to protect the thing. No matter. I knew Klaus could do that, too.

He said, "Did something happen?"

I looked quickly down at my hands, folded on my lap. My fingers were white from how tightly I was holding on. With deliberate effort, I loosened them. Relaxed. "No. A feeling. The way he was questioning us . . . and the way he's watching us right now. Don't look!"

Klaus didn't turn his head, keeping his gaze steady on my face. Sweater pulling over his chest with the way he stretched, his one arm still slung over the back of his chair. A mocking smile that had only been dancing lightly over his expression developed a sharper cut.

"What?"

"Are we calling a truce?"

Oh, jeez. "Wasn't aware we were in need of one. But okay, yes."

"Headmaster is a cunning old wolf; all sharp teeth and power." Klaus let his eyes flash golden, a rich amber shine that was like they were backlit. "But you surprised me. Little mortal bird with a survivalist's intuition."

"I'm not totally hopeless then," I said. "Suppose that's good to know."

"Birds get themselves eaten, love."

"So do wolves."

Klaus' smile could have cut steel.

"Will you protect the Box or not?"

**XxXxXx**

_**POV- Klaus**_

She liked his chest, Klaus thought with no small amount of pleasure.

Amanda had made some effort to hide her appreciation of his body, and failed miserably for the attempt. He saw the way her eyes widened; sliding over the bare expanse of his top half as if caressing his skin with her gaze. She liked what she saw. It was in the way her scent changed, sweetening so that it softened the headiness of her natural pepper and spice.

Klaus stretched for her while reaching for his sweater, gifting his little human with a clearer view of the way his muscles would bunch and slide as he moved.

She was attracted to him.

That gave him pause. Partly because he hadn't seen it until that moment, but also because his own response to her staring was out of the usual.

Oh, Klaus knew the way women responded to him. Ruggedly good looking with an undercurrent of menace that attracted them like flies to honey. Klaus was never left wanting for company. Was never left wanting for attention, either, even when he wasn't looking for it.

From the first, Amanda had been more a fascination. A curiosity. She was unanswered questions and that interested him. Real friendship was not impossible, he admitted, though they were still far from that point. Constantinople deminstrated that they were able to partner; and that they worked well together. Klaus did feel a spike of excitement when he thought of it, and frustraton when he remembered how he responded after she was stolen from his side.

He should not have become as distraught by her absence, but he'd fallen apart. Gorgeing himself on blood.

Ironically, the slaughter helped to keep him focused.

It wasn't because she was gone with the Cube, leaving him trapped in an alternate universe that drove him to rage and rail. It was that _**she**_ was gone. His little bird flown away.

Klaus was caught between his own desire to keep her near him, and an undeniable distrust.

She knew things she couldn't possibly have known; doing whatever she could to pretend like she was as lost as he. Amanda would get so flustered whenever she let something slip, a tiny bit of knowing she wasn't supposed to have. She brought attention to her mistakes.

He said nothing. Did not show that he noticed her slips.

Klaus plowed through feet of snow, ice caking his jeans up to his knees.

It didn't slow him up so much as irritate him; his hybrid body strong enough so that the resistance of driving through dnowdrifts was inconsequential. The cold, too, didn't affect him the way it would have had he been human. He could _**feel**_ the cold against his skin. He didn't shiver.

Amanda was still in the castle, interrogating the pretty human boy who liked her. For what he didn't much care beyond that it kept attention off of him. Exactly as it was intended to do.

Klaus allowed a small, satisfied smile. Another reason to enjoy and distrust his bird . . . she was a cunning little thing. The plan was hers.

Her was Cube was his.

The Black Cube was still in her satchel, soft lambskin leather oddly warm at his hip. He wore the bag as she did, with the strap slanted over his chest so to keep his hands free. His jacket was over that, unzipped despite the freezing winter temperature. Amanda trusted him with a lot, to just hand their most precious belonging over without a pause. But she was worried. Better the devil you know, than some old wizard with sharp eyes and alterior motives.

The heavy _whoomph!_ of snow dislodged from a branch lifted Klaus' head. He scanned the surrounding forest with quick attention. The sun was risen, cold and crystal white at the school but here in the forest that seemed to stretch on and on forever, the day was overcast. Not a cloud in the clear blue sky, but still somehow gray and shadowed beneath the trees.

Dark, feathery trees towered over his head. Creaking in the cold, their high canopies swaying. The forest smelled of frostbitten earth and damp wood. It was a relief after the morass of cloying scents back in the wizards' school. He could breathe deeply out here, refreshed by the freedom he craved.

Amanda's scent coated his jacket, mixing with the wetness of melting snow. He breathed deeply, drawing that smell deep into his chest and holding it there. The air tasted like ice. Sharp on his tongue. Klaus breathed out, watching his breath waft white steam onto the air.

There was no one to talk to. No one to bother him out here.

Klaus shut his eyes and tilted his face up to the sky, feeling the prickling of loose flakes settle on his skin. A crushing loneliness swelled in him. A sudden rush of emotion that left him reeling from the intensity of what he was feeling. He ached with it.

Amanda's words to him, spoken in a moment of sheer exhausted hoplessness reverbrated throughout his entire being: _"You're all I've got. You're all I have!"_

He understood the pain of that announcement. He felt it. Every moment of his unending life, he'd known that desperation. That grasping, clutching need to find someone . . . anyone . . . just stay. Stay with me, I don't want to be alone.

Klaus shook his head and sniffed, blinking the sheen of tears from his eyes. Bound through desperation to a kindred spirit. He did avoid her, he could admit. He avoided Amanda because it was all he could do to deny fate's morbid humor. He'd wanted a companion who would not leave. Where that leave him?

The heavy creak of snapping wood, a low moan like the death cry of ancient trees bruised the frosty air. He could feel the depth of those sounds beating against his skin. Up through the soles of his feet. The noise so loud that it swept aside the chaos churning in his mind. Klaus focused, his senses sharpening with intention and the silent forest erupted with noises he had scarcely been aware of before.

The wooly crackle of snow settling, compacting beneath its own wet weight. Hybernating trees bowing their branches, wood creaking. The rustle of rodents burrying tunnels through snowdrifts, unseen but not hidden away from those that pursued them. The wind picked up, howling like a banshee on the gray day. Natural sounds. The forest come alive.

That wasn't all there was.

A smell like lighter fluid caught in the back of his throat, wildly out of place out here. His head ached from the bellows hiss of air in the lungs of something very, very large. The noise of trees splintering cracked so loudly it gave Klaus pause.

He wasn't worried. Not like anything might kill him, but that wasn't the point.

His mind turned to Amanda again. He wondered what she would do, if he didn't come back. She might have trusted him with her Cube but that decision would trap her in this world if he were to just disappear.

It pained him to think she'd believe he betrayed that trust.

When had he let himself care what she thought of him?

"_You're all I've got!"_

He shuddered.

There were voices rising above the animal hisses. Human voices, shouting what sounded like commands. That made up his mind for him. Klaus shot through the forest with a burst of vampire speed, closing the distance in seconds. Loose flakes stung like pebbles from how fast he went.

Klaus shot up a short incline, boots scuffing on icy black rock. Pebbles clacked down the hill, chime-like in the frozen stillness. He halted at the top of the hill, lean muscle coiled tight. Klaus bristled, the wolf in him demanding caution. A predator that slinked through the trees, silent as a ghost in the fog. His vampire nature saying to hell with that. Nothing could stop him. There was no threat.

Whatever peace the two halves of himself called before; they were at violent, snapping war again. Each side vying for his attention. Gnawing at him. Howling and clawing and filling his head with noise. Without thinking that he should, Klaus drew a deep breath. The sharp reek of superheated stone, of lighter fluid and unfamiliar humans shot over his senses. Beneath that was the softer flavor of cinnamon. Pepper. Her scent clung to his jacket, faded now but still delicious. It soothed the monsters inside of him, quieting the worst of it.

Relief swept through the Hybrid, and more questions. Frustration and distrust like poison in his blood. He couldn't be thankful for Amanda's unknowing help. Klaus climbed the last couple of feet, careful to keep himself out of sight. His feet skidded, the rubber soles of his boots stiff in the winter cold.

The feathery rush of scales. The creak of tendons. He could hear it all and every sense he possessed warned that the creature so close would be large. Elephant in a snowdrift? Nothing small made sounds like that. For the first time, he acknowledge his caution for what it was. Nerves.

He was actually rattled.

Klaus peeked over the stony ledge into a smoke-filled valley, shadows like phantoms moving in that gray fog. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the density of the atmosphered down there. Once they did, those shadowy forms finally solidifying into recognizable shape Klaus Mikaelson was struck dumb.

He gaped, mouth falling open in disbelief.

A plume of crimson flame bloomed out from the smoke, sparkling with golden currents. Only just a cough of fire, released on a breath. One sharp, reptilian head turned up eyes fixing unerringly on the space where Klaus crouched, transfixed by the four beasts chained below. The dragon opened it's fanged maw and breathed, releasing a concentrated rush of blue-white fire that shot forward with all the force of a fire hose.

Klaus spun, needing no urging to fling himself down the incline. Using the wall of earth and snow to shield him from the furious heat. Blistering the back of his neck, still so hot even with that wall of protection.

Enough screwing around, Klaus shot through the eerie forest like a meteor. Headed back toward the school. He was going to find Amanda and get answers long overdue. There was a goddamn _**dragon**_ in the forest.


	27. Chapter 26 - Inconsistencies - Part 1

**_*It goes without saying that The Originals and every other film, book or franchise that will be mentioned in this fanfiction belong to their respectful owners. I claim no ownership or association to any of the many "universes" that will be visited in this fanfiction.*_**

**QUICK WORD FROM DAYSTORM:**_ Hiya, Peeps! I am dedicating this chapter to the real-world book club who've been reading Edge of Tomorrow . . . and enjoying it tremendously according to my insider source and the reviews some of you have left! You have no idea how happy it's made me to hear from all of you! _

_And "Little Old Lady" who reviewed on my chapter 25; it made me smile, reading your words. That was very kind, and I so appreciated the things you said. Thank you truly. :)_

_On the side, the Edge of Tomorrow "official" playlist made for me by _LadyErised_ is now up on my Profile page, if anyone would like a listen. However, because fanfic doesn't allow links to outside sources anymore I've instead posted the URL – just copy/paste it to your search bar and enjoy! (I've seriously been writing my updates to that playlist. Whoo!)_

_Best,_

_DayStorm_

**Chapter 26**

**Inconsistencies – Part 1**

* * *

"Brilliant, isn't he? Completely demented, of course. Terrifying to be in the same room with him.

But he's really been there, you know? He's looked evil in the eye!"

– **Ron Weasley**

_Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_

J.K. Rowling (author)

* * *

Appearance matters.

My mother taught me that. People rarely paid too much attention, so they would believe the face you showed them. How I looked and the way I presented myself was the greatest advantage I would ever possess over those I was trying to impress. An incredibly sexist take on things, but as I grew older I learned that she was not wrong. My beautiful, perfect mother who saw nothing wrong in using her children in a bid to climb the social ladder – the woman who actually disowned her own son because he refused to conform to the carefully laid plan she had for him – was an intelligent woman. She knew what she wanted and exactly what it would take to get there. It made her ruthless. Something I knew even before I was old enough to find the right word for it.

To be honest, I wasn't sure how to feel when it came to my mother.

I loved her. That I knew.

She was my mom, and I had so many warm memories of us. The way she would climb into bed with me when I was small, tucking us both under the covers. The soft glow from my pink elephant lamp. Fresh from my bath, I would still be a little chilly from the damp but under the covers it was nice. My mother's expensive perfume washed away, leaving only a hint of that artificial scent on her skin. Before sleep, she would read to me. It was our tradition. Every night even when she was tired, she set aside this time for us. I would feel so grown up and special, because it was my job to turn the page. I couldn't read to tell, but she would kiss my hair when it was time.

Of course that was when I was very little. Some of my earliest memories.

But there were more.

Mom making sure that there were apple sconce at the ladies' brunches I was forced to attend, because she knew I hated the bland blueberry that they usually served. Mom driving an hour out of her way to bring me a book I'd forgotten at home, because I needed it for class. Mom keeping those picture books she used to read to me, on a shelf in her own room. All lined up, the colorful spines of Winnie the Pooh and Mrs. Spider and Bernstein Bears. I was too old for them but she kept them anyway because they'd been _**ours**_.

They were little things. Ways she showed me that she loved me, without ever needing to say the words.

But it was so much more complicated than that.

Both my parents could turn so cold. And they did, whenever they felt I disappointed them. At dinner parties or at fundraisers or even secondhand by misbehaving at school. They would show me through their silence how upset I made them.

I remembered being in the backseat of my parents' car. It was late – just past midnight and we were going home. I could see my father's profile, from my seat. The hard line of his jaw. The glint in his dark eyes as headlights from passing cars slid over his face like ghosts. My mother, in the passenger seat in front of me, was only a tangle of deliberately styled hair and the smell of hairspray sticky in the hot interior of the car.

My stomach still churned with the memory of that twenty-minute drive. If I closed my eyes, I could feel the hard length of my seatbelt pressing into my chest. The way it actually seemed to tighten, as if someone were tugging on it. My heart pounding, so hard I could feel my pulse like a drumbeat in my head. I was almost sick with their judgment.

I loved my family. I did.

But did I like them? What was waiting for me, should I ever find my way back?

Not for the first time, I wondered what people thought happened to me. I sent my mind back to those final few minutes. Possibly . . . very possibly . . . the last time I would ever stand in my own universe again. The fundraiser party; over but still populated with a smattering of guests who hadn't gone home yet. My ears rang with the memory of crystal glasses and the clink of plates being collected.

My dad was up by the podium, speaking with the event coordinator. I hadn't seen my mom, but Ethan was there.

I squeezed my eyes shut as a tremor rolled through me.

My brother.

Between the time he emancipated and they kicked him out, to the second I saw him at the party more than a year later . . . there'd been no sign of him. Nothing. It was like he fell off the face of the Earth but that wasn't possible. Where did he go? Seventeen years old and cut off, where would he have gone?

It was just strange. That I would see him after so long, only minutes before _**I**_ would disappear. Ethan's the one who handed me the Cube. He found it, he said, in the parking lot outside the hotel. Sitting on the asphalt like someone put it there. The Cube slipped in and out of alternate universes when the countdown hit zero. It didn't need a person attached to it to do that. It made me wonder if I was the Cube's first actual owner. The Cube might have been ancient. Some cosmic relic from the very beginning; shot off like waste when the universes were formed. How many people before me had fallen into the trap?

I thought of Giovanna. Me. Not me. Some version of me. She had perfect control of her Pyramid.

I thought of Ethan, holding the Cube out as if inviting me to take it.

And my mother; _appearance matters, Amanda . . ._

**XxXxXx**

Harry, Ron and Hermione sat at the Gryffindor table, heads bowed close together while they chatted in hushed voices.

It made me wonder how they got anything done; they couldn't have been more conspicuous. They looked like rebels planning a supply run into occupied territory. Would have been funny if I wasn't already wound so tight. I was tempted to go plop myself down beside them, if only to mess with the conspiring trio but that was not part of the plan. _**My**_ plan. And because it was my plan I couldn't exactly go off script. Klaus was already gone, having slipped out of the school like a shadow.

His job was to make she he didn't give himself away.

My job was to make sure nobody missed him.

To do that, I had to make what I was doing more interesting than stopping to wonder where Klaus went.

I still sat at our little isolated table, foot resting on the chair across from mine. The toast I continued to munch had gone cold and hard, but I ate that while quietly watching the comings and goings of the population of Hogwarts. Mostly goings, now, as students gradually picked up and trickled out of the meal hall now that breakfast was over. Some lingered – like Harry Potter and company – but for the most part the immense room was emptying.

No professors sat at their high table, each having gone off to do whatever it was teachers did first thing in the morning. Not a stretch to imagine someone – something – was left behind to keep an eye on me. The mysterious stranger in their midst.

In fact, I was counting on it.

My gaze slid to the Hufflepuff table and the tall boy who'd just stood up, his black cloak falling smoothly over his shoulders. He looked good, I thought. His school robes in order, yellow and black tie tucked neatly in. He was tall and lean with a touch of hard muscle beneath that. He was built like a wrestler, all coiled strength. Like Klaus . . . aaaaand I immediately steered my mind away from that line of thought.

I looked again towards the Gryffindor table. Indecision making me pause and eating up those precious few seconds. Harry Potter, those distinctive round glasses perched solidly on the bridge of his nose. Framing a pair of dark eyes that were at once fierce and vulnerable.

Not for the first time, I wondered how this worked. The idea of alternate universes was great fun to play with – ugh – but this wasn't just another place we were passing through. The people, the places, the events that would happen here were all pulled straight from the mind of a particularly talented writer who had an idea and ran with it. Looking around, she even got the Hogwarts House colors right. I wasn't willing to believe that a whole universe sprang into existence because of the popularity of the books, which made me think this was here first.

Infinite meant no end. And an endless thing contained repeating patterns; I saw already. Giovanna herself was just me coming around again.

I could understand the concept. But that presented a question that I was not prepared to consider: what would happen if I disrupted the course of events in a universe. Nothing I could do to change that I was _**there**_ . . . but what about actually placing myself in the way?

A chill worked its way down my spine. Hermione was talking now, whispering to her friends with such urgency and irritation. They weren't comically inept rebels planning a supply run, as I'd tossed out with a smirk. They were kids embroiled in a war for which there was no escaping.

I could hear what they were talking about. It didn't matter.

I turned my gaze back toward Hufflepuff. Cedric was leaving, picking his book bag off the floor. Locks of golden brown hair fell into his eyes when he leaned over.

Leave Harry Potter alone. But he wasn't the only student with which I already had a connection.

I came out of my chair, hurrying to catch up with Cedric who was already passing out of the hall his robes billowing out behind him from how fast he was going. Nobody stopped me as I rushed out into the hall. Cool, dark stone floors. Carefully set so that they looked like cobblestones rather than the heavy bricks of the walls. Ceiling arched sharply over my head, but not nearly as high as in the meal hall.

There were students out here, loitering and talking. Moving busily past in a way that suggested they had places to be. My eyes kept looking at ties and crests instead of faces; tracking the colors. A lot of emerald around. Some yellow. Very few blues outside in the hall, but a bunch of them were still lingering over their breakfast plates. Too distracted by paging through books and chatting amongst themselves to have finished eating yet.

Cedric moved _**fast**_. He was already nearly out of sight.

I darted after him. Small and spry, this was actually something I was totally familiar with. Moving through crowded school corridors. The loss of my satchel bumping heavily at my hip helped. It felt amazing to be rid of it, having nothing to look after for a while. No ball-and-chain. Klaus could carry the damn Box. I might have spent too much time considering the novelty of being in Hogwarts. I lost sight of my target; losing sight of him behind a gaggle of girls and then losing him entirely when I ducked around the group.

"H-hey!" said one of them.

He was gone. I looked left and right, chest heaving a little as I was out of breath. I'd reached a T-section corridor. Straight in front was a door with deliberate, delicate images etched into the heavy wood. To the left and right were hallways that seemed to stretch on and on forever.

Sunlight knifed through tall, narrow windows down the length of them. Deceptively warm. Frost like spider's webs caked the glass, winking in the bright morning shine. It was beautiful. Peaceful. Like an ancient monastery full of black robed scholars and the imagery was so powerful that I felt the little hairs on my arms prickling. Just awed.

The door creaked open with a blast of icy wind, snowflakes skidding over the floors. A boy came through by himself, wearing the yellow crest on his left breast pocket. _**Not**_ the Hufflepuff I was after. He moved on without even looking at me, and I ducked through the door into brilliant white. Glaringly bright off the snow, it needled my eyes.

I blinked, the icy outside air burning in my throat and lungs.

And there he was. Cedric Diggory who'd I'd chased from the meal hall was standing with one hand on his book bag and a slight smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. Waiting for me.

"Oh," I said. "Hello."

Cedric's ghost of a smile widened. "Hello."

Awkward pause. I flushed.

"Are you following me?"

Oh, absolutely. But I couldn't say that. I brushed trailing ribbons of blonde hair out of my face, tucking it behind one ear. "I wanted to talk to you."

"I gathered," he said, and hiked his book bag up a little. Amused. Definitely amused. Entertained, too, if I had to guess but that was good. Meant he was interested. So did stopping just outside the doors so that I would have collided with him if I hadn't stopped because of the sunlight blinding off crisp white snow.

"Youuuu," I said, playfully drawing out the word, "were watching me. Last night, at the inn."

"Was I?" His smile was utterly shameless. Disarmingly boyish.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I retorted, sweetly. "Were you trying to hide it?"

Cedric's eyes were a heavy gray and they absolutely sparkled with humor. Beams of sunlight slanted over the towers of Hogwarts castle, cold and white on this winter morning. Light that played warm in his hair which was all rich ambers and gold mixed in with the deeper oak. Like fossilized wood, polished shiny so that all the earthy, complex colors were brought to the surface.

And the complete opposite of Klaus. Again . . . I steered my mind away from that line of though.

"Maybe I noticed you were looking back," he said. Heat pinched in my cheeks, but Cedric went on before I could respond. "Or else you looked so out of place."

I laughed and waved my hand, dismissing that. "That's not news. I always stand out."

"You make it sound like such an awful thing."

"It is when you're hiding in a corner," I pointed out. "Trying to disappear in a crowd."

Cedric hesitated, his thousand watt smile freezing in place as he turned over what I was saying in his head. I swear I saw the exact second it occurred to him, "If you don't want to be noticed, you might want to avoid hiding in corners. That . . . tends to draw attention. _'__**What**__ is she doing?'_"

I huffed. "Don't make it sound like I was standing with my face to the wall."

He laughed. The wind picked up, whirling loose particles of snow like sand through the courtyard. I glanced around, surprised by how alone we were. A smattering of other students moved about, bright points of red and blue and green scarves, but Cedric and I could have been alone. Talking. Just talking. The wind was icy, though, and I could feel the burn around my ears. The tip of my nose going numb and I knew it must have been shiny red. I crossed my arms over my chest, in a futile effort to retain some body warmth through the very thin polyester of my windbreaker jacket.

Idly I thought that I would need to acquire warmer clothes for myself. It was only winter here, but I had no idea what universe was coming next. I would die if we landed in an ice age. Or worse. Mars. Not that a hat and gloves would make a difference if we landed on Mars . . .

"Hey," Cedric said, very lightly. "Where'd you go? Can I come to?"

I blinked. "Sorry. I guess I . . . have stuff on my mind."

It was clear Cedric wasn't used to girls zoning out in is presence. He did another shoulder-roll, hiking up the strap of his book bag again and tried for casual. "Walk with me?"

Sure. I fell into step, following him along one of the many walkways that had been shoveled clear. The snow was feet deep on either side of us, but trampled into a smooth, icy crust under our feet.

"Where're we going?" I asked.

"I'm going to class," Cedric said. "This is a school, you know."

I actually snickered there. Real emotion because that was too fun to let pass. "So I'm officially walking you to class. Does this mean we're going steady?"

Humor flashed in his gray eyes. His answering grin was warm, sincere, and layered with mischief. He swung his bag around, opened it and dug inside for a second. Pulling out a heavy, leather-bound tome he passed it to me. Or, more accurately, held it out for the ten seconds it took to realize he meant for me to take it. I did and felt the book warm in my cold hands. Soft, too. The red leather was smooth as cream.

Printed in gold leaf on the front: _Abbreviated Guide to Advanced Transfiguration_

This was the "abbreviated" version? Book was as thick as a dictionary.

"What am I supposed to do with this?"

Cedric winked. "I thought that since you're walking me to class, you might want to carry my books for me too."

"Oh, funny," I muttered, but laughed anyway. Points for charming. Points for clever. Negative points for making me like him. I would be leaving this universe and never coming back. The last thing I needed was to miss somebody when I was gone.

Have to admit, it was nice walking with him. He was taller, so his strides were a little longer than mine but I didn't feel like I needed to keep up. Cedric slowed his pace to match mine, rather than expect me to hurry. With Klaus – also faster than me – he just didn't care. It was keep up or be left behind. And for the most part, I did my best but I always felt like I had to stay alert. Attentive. Because Klaus was known to just suddenly change direction without a word of warning.

So it was nice. Comfortable, walking with Cedric. I felt a tightness leave my chest.

"So what was that earlier?" I asked. Partly because I wanted to know, but also to keep him talking to me.

"What was what?"

I smiled and crossed my arms to the front, holding his heavy magic book in both hands. "How often do people lift you up while cheering? You know, earlier. What was all that about?"

"That was overreaction." Color stained the tips of his ears as he said it. "I was chosen to compete in the Triwizard tournament this year."

The tournament! All at once, everything fell into place and I remembered that Hermione Granger had already told me this. _"Hogwarts is hosting the Triwizard tournament this year . . . it is an honor." _I closed my eyes, swallowing a disgusted groan that I hadn't remembered what she said to me just last night. To be fair, so much had happened since then but this was something that should have stuck.

"Congratulations," I said.

Cedric cast a speculative glance in my direction, carefully not fixing me with a stare. No matter, I still saw the consideration in his expressive gray eyes at my less than congratulatory tone. I caught my bottom lip between my teeth and struggled to find something more to say to him.

We were inside now, moving together down a length of windowless stone corridor that could have come straight from the pages of a gothic novel. Heavy bricks and a half-light from infrequent lamps spaced fairly far apart. I could almost feel the full weight of the castle over our heads, pressing down on us. We hadn't descended any stairs, and as far as I could tell we were still on the ground floor. I thought we must have just moved from the exterior of the school into the interior. There were no windows. Made sense.

Cedric swept up to a heavy cracked wooden door, his robes swirling around his legs and tuned to face me with a sharp smile. "We're here. Transfiguration, year six, advanced."

I smirked in return. "Are you trying to impress me? Transfiguration. _**Advanced**_ placement."

Footsteps clicked sharply in the hallway behind me, more students coming to class I figured. I could see two blue Ravenclaws approaching from over Cedric's shoulder.

Cedric lowered his head, just enough to bring himself closer to me and said, "Maybe I am. But only a little."

I blinked, blown by those words and looked up straight into Cedric's handsome face. His answering smile was genuine and warm with only a shadow of uncertainty. A complex but sincere combination of expressions that I felt a bloom of warmth soft around my heart.

"Mister Diggory," an authoritative voice cut like the crack of a whip through the charged silence between us. My head whipped around, recognizing that tone of voice as displeased-teacher on an instinctive level. Profound.

"Professor?" Cedric's own voice came out polite and totally innocent.

I chanced a look at the mature woman in black robes and tightly pressed lips. _**Her**_ I recognized on sight. She looked exactly as she had in the movies and a small thrill of happiness sparkled. Professor McGonagall. She was pretty, I thought in a way that had never occurred to me before. Tall with a presence that was no less palpable than Dumbledore's but more matronly aunt than manipulatively cunning master wizard. Her glasses were perched neatly on the bridge of her nose. Steel gray hair deliberately styled to be practical but still feminine. Wrinkles gathered thickest at the corners of her mouth and around her eyes in a way that showed she was a woman who smiled often, despite her pursed lips at this exact second.

She made me think that she would be the sort of grandmotherly aunt who would sneak you an oatmeal cookie fresh from the oven with a conspirators' wink, but hit you with a wooden spoon if you tried to steal away with one behind her back.

"You have class, Mister Diggory," she was saying, very sternly.

He nodded.

"Right," I said, shuffling awkwardly between them. I tried an abashed smile and held out Cedric's heavy _**Advanced**_ Transfiguration book. He took it with an easy smile, performed a small bow that was really just a downward tilt of his chin and swept into his classroom.

I shuffled my feet and looked to McGonagall. She fixed me with a piercing blue stare that was not entirely unfriendly.

_What?_ I wanted to ask. Said nothing. Teacher . . . Teacher . . . Teacher . . . you don't get snarky with teachers because, you know, that always ends well.

"The Headmaster would like to see you," she said, finally.

My hand slapped down at my hip, impulsively seeking the comforting weight of my Black Box in its usual place. But of course there was nothing there, Klaus had it.

The "plan" had been to cause a distraction – something small – so that nobody would be looking at him while Klaus snuck out of the school. To keep people's eyes on me. Mingling with the students had seemed like a safe bet because as far as distractions went this was something Dumbledore would be leery of, but it was also a thing I could downplay when questioned. We were just talking . . . harmless. Honestly though, Klaus moved like a shadow or a bullet. Brutally fast. Invisible. I had expected him back by now.

"Come along, girl," Professor McGonagall said, seeing how I hedged. Hesitating by the doorway Cedric had just gone through.

I followed her lead, letting her take me up to the Headmaster's hidden office behind the large stone statue of a phoenix. My heart thudding like thunder in my chest. Panic mounting too quickly for me to have any hope to hold inside. If I couldn't calm down, I wouldn't be able to dance around the Headmaster's probing questions the way I had the night before.

What happened to Klaus?

Was he even coming back? He had my Cube.

Dumbledore had staged this intervention perfectly. I thought I'd been playing him. He'd gotten me alone and now . . . now, we would talk.

* * *

**Final Word from DayStorm –** _I intended to have _Amanda-Alone-With-Dumbledore_ AND _Klaus-interrogating-Amanda_ in this chapter so that I could begin the first Triwizard Tournament Challenge next chapter and we'd be on a roll. However, this chapter was getting too long. I couldn't fit those two extra parts in without having this chapter look like it just goes on and on . . ._

_So I've divided it into two parts. The next update (Part 2) will be up in a day or so; I've already started it. :P So no forever waits before we see Klaus on-scene again. I apologize that there was no Klaus in this one; there should have been . . . would have been . . . but I needed a chapter where we got to experience more of Amanda's back story and what's happening in her head in a place where she's not in mortal peril in the meanwhile._


	28. Chapter 27 - Inconsistencies - Part 2

**_*It goes without saying that The Originals and every other film, book or franchise that will be mentioned in this fanfiction belong to their respectful owners. I claim no ownership or association to any of the many "universes" that will be visited in this fanfiction.*_**

**Chapter 27**

**Inconsistencies – Part 2**

* * *

"Brilliant, isn't he? Completely demented, of course. Terrifying to be in the same room with him.

But he's really been there, you know? He's looked evil in the eye!"

**–** **Ron Weasley**

_Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_

J.K. Rowling (author)

* * *

**POV – Klaus**

Klaus stood on the sharply slanted roof of the school, in the shadow of its towers looking down into the snowy courtyard forty feet below. The wind wafted at his back, raking icy fingers through his hair and tore the scent of hot black smoke from his skin. The breeze had picked up as the morning progressed, and though the solid walls of the caste shielded those within its circle of stony protection Klaus was unmoved.

A woman with tightly pressed lips and a crooked magician's hat was leading Amanda quickly through the enclosed courtyard; from one door to another across the way. Amanda followed obediently a step behind, expression so deliberately set that it made him pause. Something was happening; he couldn't say what but Amanda was clearly unhappy with this turn of events. Her hand kept going to the place at her hip where her satchel usually rested. Seeking the comfort of the Cube there and finding nothing.

Her bag was warm against his side, and he became acutely aware of it there. The dark power thrumming through the leather, the denim of his jeans and into his skin. He imagined he could feel it in his bones and the weight of what he carried unnerved him.

He drew a deep breath, scenting the air but could only detect the faintest traces of Amanda's unique scent. The wind at his back carrying it away from him.

Amanda and her escort passed through a set of double doors into the school, taking them out of his sight. Klaus moved then, looking back over his shoulder toward the wall of forest that was so vast it seemed to go on forever. Too far now from the caged dragons hidden within to hear their frustrated bellowing, though the sounds they made followed him for quite a ways.

Dragons.

If there were dragons in **_his_** universe, Klaus had seen no evidence of them. Not once in his thousand years and he **_did_** search. Fascinated by the tales his father used to tell, to impress the village people in their new world home – when they were all still human. Stories brought with him from their homeland across the sea. In his short mortal life, Klaus had never been to Norway but after he became a vampire he went there searching for those creatures. Enchanted by the possibility . . .

Men could become wolves when the moon was full. His witch mother bestowed immortality on her children. He himself could live off the blood of the living . . . why would dragons be outside the realm of possibility?

There **_were_** Norse dragons. _Niohoggr_, a monstrous creature who gnawed on the roots of the world tree, _Yggdrasil. _The beast called _Jomungandr_. More serpentine than the other dragons. Sometimes described as being only a snake, but one so large its tail reached down into the lowest circle of Hel.

Legends and stories told around crackling fires, with the dark of the night closing around them all. Unknown terrors and monsters watching unblinking from the darkness, for the unwary to stray too far from the firelight. But nothing tangible. He could find no real evidence of the existence of dragons.

_Strange,_ Klaus mused now. There had been so many disappointments over the long, lonely centuries. But he'd forgotten how deeply this one had hurt him.

But here, in this universe, dragons were real.

A grim smile twisted his expression. It seemed like the greatest of cosmic jokes, that he would find his innocent, wide-eyed-wonder only after he turned his heart to stone.

**XxXxX**

**POV – Amanda**

The Sorting Hat was exactly as I'd left it. A crumpled heap on a shelf.

I'll admit that fascinated me. Was the Hat smart enough to fold back into itself when I came in, to hide that it was alive? Or had it stayed like that all night? Was the Sorting Hat alive at all in this universe? Maybe that was a detail that existed only in the books.

Just like the night before, Dumbledore offered tea and a plate of cookies. I sat down on a comfy, padded chair across from the headmaster while a friendly fire crackled in the hearth beside us. His office smelled lightly of herbs and book leather and fragrant wood. It should have been nice. It **_was_** nice. But I was having considerable trouble accepting my hosts' hospitality.

When Dumbledore offered me the plate of cookies, I took one only because refusing would have been impolite. And I didn't want to just hand control over to him. Such a little thing, but to say no would be the same as admitting he scared me. Give an inch . . . I couldn't give an inch . . . that inch was all I had.

The strangest part is that I **_wanted_** to trust him. To be honest, it was almost as if I felt I should. From the books and the movies, Dumbledore was supposed to be the good guy. The man who dispensed sage advice and who would help me if I asked. But sitting there across from him, the gentle heat from the fire on my right and the spicy sweetness of those cookies stinging the inside of my nose . . . it wasn't the same. None of it felt safe and the muscles between my shoulders were starting to ache from how knotted they were.

"I trust you slept well," Dumbledore said, smiling warmly at me through his smooth white beard. Sparkling blue eyes under bushy eyebrows.

_He knows how to smile with his eyes too,_ I thought critically.

"Thank you so much for allowing us to stay," I said it calmly.

Dumbledore tilted his chin, graciously acknowledging my thanks. "I fear our Infirmary may not have been the most comfortable of places to spend the evening."

"It was fine," I assured him. "A bed and blankets. We spent too much time out in that blizzard to complain about the accommodations."

He chuckled.

"And your friend? No concerns, I trust."

"No. Nothing." I lifted my teacup and took a careful sip, moistening my throat.

To my surprise, Dumbledore did the same. He drank, and then set his cup down on its little saucer with a delicate _clink_. I felt that noise all the way down to my bones. A jarring, sharp noise in the relative quiet with only the crackle and snap of the hearth fire.

"He left so quickly over breakfast," Dumbledore added.

He let it hang, inviting me to offer an explanation for Klaus' rather abrupt departure that morning. I could have said something. I even had something prepared, for just in case it came up. What happened to Klaus? We'd been inseparable the night before.

I said nothing.

A monumental moment for me, and proof that I was starting to change. Every cell in my body ached with the desire to speak up. To follow the natural progression of this conversation the way I'd done a thousand times before. My turn to speak; and my god did I ever feel the effort it took for me to refuse. A lifetime of conditioning ignored . . . because I recognized this was my chance. To break away from what was expected, and effectively turn the tables on my interrogator.

And I **_was_** being interrogated, make no mistake.

It seemed like such a little thing. But it wasn't.

I did not give him my prepared explanation. I didn't give anything. And that lengthening silence, that awkward pause in an otherwise smoothly flowing discussion was downright jarring. It broke it all up and I know he felt it too. A shadow moved through Dumbledore's eyes, and I kept my smile soft and unassuming.

Dumbledore knew better than to acknowledge my very slight defiance by sipping his tea or taking a cookie. Instead, he launched right into continuing as if my break in the conversation hadn't been as significant as it was. "The blizzard lasted through the night. The roads away from the school are impassable, I'm afraid. Are there people you would like us to contact in your absence?"

"So we won't be leaving just yet," I summarized.

I took a cookie.

I honestly could not tell if Dumbledore cared that I wasn't more upset over this. But I wasn't. To be honest, I already knew he didn't want to let us leave. I also knew that he had no real way to stop us. So why should it bother me?

Movement on the shelf over Dumbledore's shoulder drew my attention that way. My gaze actually skidded right over it, going to a small golden contraption that ticked like a clock. But that wasn't it. My eyes snapped back to the spot where the Sorting Hat sat like a heap of brown cloth. From over the hem of the folds, I thought I saw two eyes blinking at me.

I grinned without thinking. So, the thing was alive after all.

"Amanda."

I looked quickly back at the headmaster.

"The device you carry," he said. "Where is it?"

**XxXxX**

There were a handful of ways I could have responded.

Denial leapt to my lips, salty and hard. But a quick denial would only cement Dumbledore's certainty. No, I needed to be smarter than this. I ate some of the cookie I had in my hand, using the gingery sweetness to steady me; and buy time to think of what to say.

Questioning him was a better way to go._ Device? What device?_ But that, too, was weak. Sloppy work. The sort of thing you said to sound clueless also had the unfortunate effect of making you look dumb.

Dumbledore lifted one white, hairy-caterpillar-eyebrow.

"Klaus has it," I said. There was still some cookie in my mouth, so the words came out garbled a bit. My mother would have killed me, if she'd caught me talking with my mouth full like that. But mom wasn't here.

Dumbledore clearly had not expected straight honesty. The hesitation in his response was slight, but it was there.

"And where is your friend?"

"Dunno," I said. "Haven't seen him since breakfast."

The little eyes peeking up from the Sorting Hat rose a bit higher. A slip of a muggle-girl was sassing the headmaster.

Dumbledore's smile was indulgent and kind. But the light in his eyes was shrewd. Sharp. I backpedaled a bit, reeling in my cockiness. This man was smarter than me. I couldn't forget that.

He said, "Tell me. What do you know?"

"Too many things," I confessed; a moment of weakness. An uncensored thought, I shouldn't have said that. Of course Dumbledore heard the honesty in my words – the most skeptical person would have heard it – and nodded. Quietly inviting me to continue . . . my gaze fixed with his, distrust leaving a bad taste in my mouth.

I picked up my teacup and took a swallow. The scent of herbs filled my head, fragrant and enticing the steam wafting from my tea smelled wonderful. My eyes popped open and I set my cup down with a sharp _click_! Magic. Spells and potions. I shouldn't eat or drink anything he offered me, no matter how tasty it smelled and fear coiled around my initial suspicion, souring in my stomach so fast I was almost sick. Sweat beaded on my forehead.

"What would you say, if I told you that your friend was in terrible danger," Dumbledore said quietly.

I kept my expression as bland as I could. "Is that a threat?"

"I did not say **_I_** was the terrible danger."

"Who then?"

Dumbledore's eyes bored into mine. "I would like to see the device you carry."

"I told you, I don't have it."

"**_He_** does, and he's looking for you. Perhaps it would be best, if we asked him to join us."

"Perhaps it would be best if we didn't," I countered.

"Have you known him long?"

The Sorting Hat on the shelf was now making zero effort to hide it was listening. It "sat" straight up, the pointed top slightly crooked. The folds on the front, forming eerily expressive eyes and a mouth downturned in what looked like a stern frown. Interested in what was being discussed. It was even moving, blinking its eyes.

"Yes," I said, but only because a challenging _'Why would you ask me that?'_ would sound childish. He was smarter than me, and he intimidated me, but it was important now that I not waver.

"Oh?"

I repeated, "Yes, we've known each other a long while."

Dumbledore watched me for so long, the crackle and hiss of the cheery fire the only noise other the thump of my own heart in my ears and I wondered if he was going to call me on it. I could see in his eyes that he knew I was lying.

"The device you carry –"

"– **_I don't have it_**."

"No," he said. "I would ask you, what is it?"

Oh.

My first impulse was to dismiss the Cube's importance. But truthfully, I didn't think **_anyone_** could have sold that. The Black Cube was a mystery to me, but I knew what it could do. And any device that had the power to slip between alternate universes . . . was not something that could be dismissed as a trinket. Dumbledore would sense that power. Klaus could. So did I.

Not a trinket then. But the truth? The truth was out of the question.

"Can't answer that," I said.

He nodded, and for once I felt he would let it go at that.

"My turn," I leaned forward, bracing my elbows on my knees "what do you want with me?"

Dumbledore blinked passively, folding his hands into the deep sleeves of his robes. I bristled.

"You're more interested in me than you are in Klaus. And I **_know_** you sense that he's not human." Still nothing, but the lack of reaction was all the confirmation I needed that I was right. I pushed just a little harder –

"Look. We both know I'm only a muggle," no response to my accurate use of a term that should not have been in my vocabulary "I'm normal. Letting me stay here, in this school, is against the Wizarding World's high rules. **_Forcing_** me to stay . . . well, that changes things."

"You do know many things," Dumbledore mused, echoing what I'd said before. The blue in his eyes had become almost silver with his focus. He watched me, not threatened and certainly not concerned – but with a focused consideration that shivered my skin. My heart was thumping like a drumbeat in my chest, and I was feeling out of breathe.

Panic? No, this was something else.

A strange sort of exhilaration. I liked butting heads with a man who was so much my superior. I found it exciting. The same dangerous rush I imagined people feel before throwing themselves out of a plane.

"I do. So where does that leave us?"

Dumbledore said, "I suspect, I know what you are. There are stories, of people such as yourself that span the ages."

Confession? I would have liked to say I was strong enough to keep control of this conversation, but that gave me pause. For the first time, I felt a sparkle of genuine interest.

"People . . . like me?"

Elaborate.

"Men, sometimes women, who appear as if from nowhere and disappear as suddenly as they come. Sometimes mistaken for sprites or the fair folk, though they are neither of those. Who these people are, or from where they hail is the greatest of mysteries."

"So that's it? That's why you won't let us leave?" Skeptical laugh, not entirely faked. "You think I'm some sort of spirit?"

"I did not say these people were spirits," Dumbledore amended. He'd changed personas again. No longer kindly grandfather; or shrewd inquisitor. Now he was wise old mentor. A professor. "Sightings are infrequent and there were tremendous lengths of time between each visit; and that is what we began to call them, when identifying them. They were visitors."

I crossed my legs, resting one leg neatly over the other and folded my hands on my lap. Not faking politeness, but genuinely interested. What Dumbledore was saying rang with the truth, and the way he explained it made it sound like . . . maybe . . . there had been others like me. Once. People who came and left, drawn in and out by the same power that allowed me to do the same.

Without meaning to, I thought of Giovanna. For once not of her Pyramid. Nope. I remembered something she'd told me. About travelling to different Universes, searching for answers. She mentioned interacting with people in a way I hadn't dared to do, yet. Actually having lunch with a physics professor who specialized in Dark Matter – on an Earth that was more advanced than either of ours.

I remembered that in the world where we met her, she'd spent weeks pretending to be an Italian noblewoman seeking protection amongst the League of Assassins . . . all in a bid to steal from them.

Giovanna made herself an active participant in the worlds she visited. She interacted with the people there. She took thing, she moved things. She planted ideas.

I lifted my gaze to Dumbledore, meeting his unerring stare with a cold calmness that hadn't been there before.

"These people who come and go," I started "who are they?"

"Harbingers," he said, simply.

"I-I don't understand. What is that?"

"Omens," he said. "Neither good nor evil, they were believed to influence the world. Scholars once believed that these visitors came to us in times of great turmoil. Later, it was assumed that they arrived as signs of disaster to come. Whether they came as saviors, or to quicken the looming disaster was subjective."

"Maybe they had no idea what they were doing," I said. "Maybe they were only lost."

"Are you lost?"

"I think you don't need me to tell you there's turmoil in your world. You know what's happening and you know I can't help you. I am no visitor or harbinger of doom. I'm just a girl."

"And if you could?" Dumbledore countered mildly. "If you were able. What would you do?"

I wouldn't be here. If I had the power to help save them, then the power to leave this place would be mine too. Why would I stay?

I asked, "What happens to me now? I'm useless to you and I won't share what I know. So what will you do?"

Kindly old man was back. Dumbledore smiled, crinkling the wrinkles around his eyes and making them twinkle.

**XxXxXx**

**POV – Klaus**

Amanda emerged from the headmaster's office looking like hell.

There wasn't a mark on her; it was written into the lines of her face. So young, her skin smooth and plumped with youthful vitality and a core of iron bracing her spine. She carried the weight of the world on her shoulders, and it was crushing her.

Amanda didn't see him at first; where he stood waiting for her to come out.

A large stone griffin, with wings folded elegantly forward turned slowly behind Amanda. Sealing the entrance to the headmaster's inner sanctum. The griffin stood in an alcove dug directly into the solid rock; a secret door which fit so well into the wall that hardly a sound was made as it slid smoothly back into place.

Amanda waited until the door was shut. Her eyes did not sweep the corridor from witnesses. She didn't see Klaus, half concealed by shadows though still clearly in sight. She closed her arms protectively around herself.

It was an uncensored moment of weakness, where she allowed her youth and fear to rise to the surface. Her shields crumbling beneath the terrible weight she carried and hid so well.

Her reaction was cumulative.

She held herself, shoulders trembling with suppressed sobs and Klaus could see what it cost her to hold back the floodgates once opened. Amanda's achingly familiar scent, pepper and sweet cinnamon, soured so great was her pain. It stung his sensitive nose, burning at the back of his throat.

A sharp sob escaped. Amanda's hand flew to her mouth, holding her knuckles there as another little cry slipped through her lips. The trembling in her shoulders became wracking sobs and she fell against the wall by her side. Her shoulder taking a solid hit she didn't seem to feel at all. Klaus' chest ached with pain so unfamiliar it took him a moment to even recognize it as empathy.

Amanda cried as if her heart was breaking. She fought it, struggling to push it back with all the strength she possessed to discover that it was not enough.

She slid down the length of the wall, her legs folding beneath her. Her shirt caught on the rough stones, tugging her sweater up at the back. Strands of honey-blonde hair pulled and tangled. She fell to the floor. A small, broken bird all alone in a cage too big for her. She looked utterly defeated.

How many cold, lonely times had Klaus wished he could cry like that? Wail at the sky, demanding to know why. He never knew exactly **_what_** he was questioning, just . . . why? No one ever answered and, over the centuries, he learned to stop asking.

Klaus watched; a phantom in the dimly lit corridor. Amanda pulled her knees up to her chin, her wracking sobs quieting as suddenly as they'd come. She trembled, but she was silent now.

No one had been listening to him.

But her . . . **_he_** heard her. He had the power to respond and so he did. Predatorily silent, Klaus moved out of the shadows.

Amanda showed no sign that she was aware of his presence, his approach, but she did not start when he touched her. Gently, at first. Klaus' supple fingers freeing the strands of hair caught to the wall and then more firmly as he laid his hands on her shoulders. Amanda turned her face up, and Klaus felt his breath catch in his throat. Her changeable eyes bluer than he'd ever seen them, they were nearly transparent. Aquamarine. They gleamed wetly, her lashes sharp from her tears. Very little bruising around her eyes, though they were red.

"There's no hope," she told him, brokenly. Fresh moisture spilled over and she made no effort to wipe the new tears from her cheeks. "There's no point, Klaus. Not to any of it."

He hesitated to speak, sensing the fragility of the moment but Klaus was unaccustomed to this. Really, how often did people seek him out for his comfort?

Klaus lowered his head, bringing himself level with Amanda. "We knew this. You told me once, that there was no point. No purpose. What did Dumbledore say to you?"

Amanda shook her head, vehemently refuting his words. "No, no you don't get it. We're never going home. There's no such thing as circling back. Every world is taking us further and further away from where we started . . . Klaus, it's random. There have been thousands of people, just like us, lost in the cosmos. Thousands? Millions. Billions. This trap – the Cube and the Pyramid and who knows how many other devices there are – how would we even begin to count? It's been happening for eons."

She winced; Amanda hissing in a sharp breath. Her gaze slid sideways. Klaus loosened his hold on her arms, only then realizing he'd tightened his grip with her words.

"It won't ever stop. Never. Not ever. This thing doesn't have an end . . ." Amanda tilted her head back, bracing her skull on the wall at her back. She let her eyes close, exhausted now from emoting so strongly.

"Is that what **_he_** told you?" Klaus demanded.

"I want to go home," Amanda breathed. "I just want to go home."

So did he. And for the first time since he joined her, Klaus felt that aching pang in his heart. Homesickness. Not so much for New Orleans, as for his family. Any place could be made into a home, and even when they were apart – a world apart – knowing his family walked the same Earth he did comforted him. They were all immortal. What was ten years? A century between visits? Their paths would cross again, and they would linger together before drifting apart again. A repeating sequence that was so familiar to him that it was reassuring. Something to look forward to, even if the next encounter resulted in a knockdown fight.

His family was out there. They would **_always_** be out there.

But not now. And if Amanda was right . . . never again.

"Come on," he said, very quietly. "You can't stay here."

Klaus lifted Amanda up off the floor, and she let him. Helping herself up, rather than going limp in his arms. The tears were already dried on her face. Only tiredness remained now, but so did the iron core straightening her spine. He cradled her body against his, her scent filling his head with heady sweetness. He swore he could feel her scent soaking into his skin, and he savored it.

**XxXxXx**

**POV – Amanda **

Hours had passed.

I knew this from the gummy taste in my mouth. Hours and hours, hot under the covers of my borrowed Infirmary bed, and I was thirsty. My eyes felt crusted. My nose stuffed. That's what happened when you slept straight after a good cry.

In the books I used to read, the heroes – girls just like me – would push themselves to breaking and then cry. Cry fiercely into their pillows or in the secret depths of the forest where no one would see them. They'd sob and rage and rail at the unfairness of it all. And then, when it was done, they always felt relieved. As if all that roiling emotion was expelled on each glistening tear shed. Like crying was some giant reboot and they came out of it renewed and ready to soldier onward.

Reality was a bit different.

It wasn't some little sob-fest the night before. Just like my YA protagonists, I'd raged and railed at the unfairness of it all. And now that it was over, I mostly just felt stuffy with a mild headache beating behind my eyes. Emotionally, I wasn't renewed at all. I was numb.

My emotions had evened out into a straight line. No ups or down just . . . numb.

The sun was setting, painting orange shadows on the white plaster wall of the Infirmary room. I could hear voices, but they were far away. Students headed for supper. My stomach gave a low growl and I sighed, curling my face into my pillow . . . finding that my _'pillow'_ was not a pillow at all.

"Klaus."

"You sleep like the dead," he remarked, arching his spine as he stretched. My upper-half rose with him. His blue sweater was still on. So were his jeans and his boots, but my shoes were off. My satchel on the bed beside him, on the other side of where I was.

I blinked, not exactly sure how I came to be in this position – namely, on top of him. Almost. My lower half was on the mattress at least.

Other than the fact that I had no idea what I was doing in the same bed as Klaus Mikaelson, had I rolled over onto him while I slept? Or was I cuddling with his chest the entire time?

_You sleep like the dead._

. . . I was cuddling with him the whole time.

Embarrassment bloomed hotly, burning through some of that exhausted numbness.

Well, at least it was a nice chest. Hard and warm and Klaus smelled faintly of snow and smoke and cedar wood. No blood for once.

I swallowed hard, chasing some of that thirsty gumminess from my mouth. "How long was I out?"

"Twelve hours," Klaus said, and yawned. If it bothered him that I was **_on_** him, he gave no sign of it. Raking long fingers through his hair and settling back on the pillow.

I balked. "Twelve hours? How did I – you let me sleep that long?"

"You were tired." Statement of fact.

I pushed off of him, and Klaus let me go. My head spun making the room tilt for just an instant. It was really hot under those covers, the blankets trapping my body heat and his together. I never noticed but Klaus was actually hot. His skin warmer than mine – pleasantly so. It did explain why the night of the blizzard, he hadn't been bothered by the cold.

His Hybrid body had its own little furnace.

The sudden chill in the centre of my back made me blush, and if that wasn't the stupidest response. I wasn't just sleeping next to him; Klaus had me in his arms, holding me close. Safe.

Confusion chased embarrassment around in a mad little circle.

"We need to talk," Klaus said, blue eyes following as I swung my legs off the side of our bed. The sheets tangled around my legs and I kicked them off.

"I'm sorry," I said, hiding my face behind a heavy fall of hair. I kept my face down, pretending to be looking for my shoes which were right beside my feet. "Last night. That won't happen again."

"That's not what we need to talk about," Klaus said.

I lifted my head, meeting the Hybrid's sharp gaze. _What else was there?_

Klaus was silent for so long, his eyes unwavering and the pull there so powerful I couldn't break away from that stare, that foreboding began to creep up the length of my spine. Tingling the whole way.

I asked, "What is it?"

"You know things," Klaus said. Mildly, but his tone was certain. No question at all that he knew what he was saying was true.

"Oh, hell," I muttered and grabbed my boots from the floor. Stuck my feet in each one, zipping them up. They were the same shoes I was wearing the evening Ethan handed me the Cube. Ankle boots that zipped up the side. The black faux leather was scuffed and splattered with dried clay. Flaky now, and easy enough to kick off. My feet felt sore from wearing them for too long at a stretch. Desperately needed to acquire new footwear. Maybe some nice, practical hiking boots.

"Don't snark," Klaus said, humor creeping into his voice. "Why won't you tell me."

"Tell you what? My secrets? These vague things I supposedly know?"

He said, "No. Why won't you tell me what you're hiding from? What could you know, that you need to lock it away?"

Truthfully, I hadn't expected that particular question. Klaus didn't compel me – we both knew he could. Didn't even demand I spill . . . it was the question itself that confused me enough so I paused. I looked at the vampire-werewolf hybrid, still stretched comfortably on the bed. One hand braced behind his head, smoke-blue eyes wide and alert without even a touch of gold showing. The very picture of casual unconcern. He wasn't threatened by me, and it would have been laughable to imagine he was afraid of anything.

Klaus really was a beautiful creature. Tall, so he looked very long stretched out on the bed. A firm, tight body. Skin that was pale – a gift from his vampire side – but seductively heated; from the wolf. His hair, which I used to think was a dirty blond was actually brown. The soft, rich brown of mouse fur. The sharp, dangerous cut to his smile accentuating his rough good looks. Klaus was spectacular in a way airbrushed and oiled underwear models could never be.

Because he was real. He was more man than any of them, and more raw. Every inch of him was predator, dangerous . . . and strangely vulnerable.

The show. The show I knew him from . . . could never do him justice. No image could. Film had nothing on the coiled power, the effortlessness of his movements. The way his skin slid so smoothly over muscle was that hard as marble. No photograph would ever capture the untamed passion that was cut into every line of his body. That exciting, whiplash energy that even now crackled and snapped like static.

Energy . . . energy . . . my blood felt hot. Desire pooling everywhere, and it felt so good I turned my eyes away. Breathed deeply, forcing hormones to settle down before we embarrassed ourselves. If we hadn't already. I snuck another peek at the Hybrid, to see if he was smirking. Aware of the liquid heat shooting through my veins.

Thank god he wasn't.

Klaus watched me, so intently it did nothing to cool that unwanted desire. I remembered his original question and a sigh slipped out through parted lips. One brow slid up; Klaus waiting for me to answer him. To say **_something_**.

"I'm hiding," I told him, very softly. The certainty I meant to put in voice wavering instead. I sounded deceitful, even to my own ears. I cleared my throat. "Can't you trust that maybe, just maybe, my secrets are meant to protect you."

"Protect me?" Yeah, wrong choice of words. Klaus went on, almost snickering as he did, "Protect me from what, love? I am the immortal that puts vampires to shame. The Hybrid, and an Original. Nothing can touch me."

"You can be hurt," I countered. "You can suffer. And when you're suffering, immortality stops being a good idea."

Klaus' derisive laugh sounded a little forced this time. "You sound like you know."

"Don't have to be a vampire myself to see that, Klaus. How much hurt can you stand, and when you finally snap I don't want to be there for it."

"What could you possibly know, that you would think it'd break me to hear it?"

I was treading on thin ice, now, and cracks were appearing beneath my feet. My heart didn't even speed up, and fleetingly I wondered if it was because my body had maxed out on adrenaline the night before. Twelve hours unconscious and I was still so tired.

Klaus' frustration was mounting, "There are goddamn **_dragons_** in the forest."

Okay, right there I showed the appropriate amount of startled surprise – unintentionally appeasing Klaus' suspicion – but only because that statement locked the final puzzle piece into place for me. I now knew **_exactly_** where in the Harry Potter timeline we were.

The Triwizard Tournament, I already knew. There was a Challenge taking place tomorrow . . . and the dragons in the forest would mean that the **_first_** challenge was tomorrow.

"Oh, my god Klaus." I let my head fall back, eyes closed, face pointed at the ceiling.

"Dragons mean something to you?"

"No," I said. "The dragons aren't that big a deal."

Klaus shot me a sidelong glance, like he would have liked to dispute that. I rushed ahead before he could pick a fight, "I know when we are."

"**_When_** we are," he echoed.

I opened my eyes, head still tilted back. The ceiling was arched, like in a cathedral crossed with simple wooden beams. Not quite as grand as in a church but it kept the roof up. Klaus sat straight up in bed. I was still right beside him, sharing the mattress and another pleasurable little shiver crackled beneath my skin. So tempted to close my eyes again, so I wouldn't have to look at him but that was childish and I had to make up for my breakdown.

Klaus would push, now, he was interested. I had to give him something . . . a morsel to chew on until he got bored with that.

As strange as it sounds, and as desperately as I wanted to confess everything – get that off my chest at least – I found myself hesitating. This was it. This was the moment where Klaus was listening, and he and I were finally breaking past the wall of reluctant-companions and maybe . . . maybe . . . becoming friends. But staring into Klaus' smoky blue eyes, affection that had nothing to do with lust warm in my chest . . . my tongue froze in my mouth.

Sense and a wild inner dialogue turning round and round in my head.

_Tell him the truth, Amanda._

**_How_**_do I tell him?_

Some of that reluctance was fear – for myself. Not because I thought he couldn't handle what I would say, but that I was afraid of what he would do when I told him.

How does anyone tell Klaus Mikaelson that his entire life – every bloody, brutal moment; every painful secret – was watched by thousands of people looking to be entertained?

How do I tell him that where I come from, his whole life is on display? He's judged and measured, his every move watched and debated. His every look, word, decision openly challenged and dissected.

Klaus was volatile. I**_ was_** afraid of what he would do, if he ever found out. It was the reason I recognized so much from the worlds we visited. How to explain any of it?

I wasn't sure if **_I_** would be okay, if someone told me that my life was a teen drama played out on TV for people to watch unfolding and argue over. _Amanda Warren: The Young and the Restless . . . the story of the upper middle class girl with couldn't pull herself together. Tonight at 9._

No. I wouldn't be okay with that.

Klaus smelled like smoke and sweet cedar wood. I blinked, coming out of my inner musings. This struggle. The reality wasn't played out on TV. Klaus was real, not a character. I look at him, straight into his eyes and my heart squeezed painfully inside my chest. He wasn't make-believe, drawn up on paper. He wasn't even the Hybrid creature who couldn't be touched . . . he was a man, who'd been hurt and betrayed so often in his life that he lashed out. He gave people permission to hate him, forcing them to hate him, because then the hatred was on his own terms. It was his choice, so it didn't hurt nearly as badly as being hated when he wanted to be loved.

Too much. This was too much to think about and I was hungry and tired and all I wanted to do was grab that damn sheet and roll over. Pulling it over my shoulders so I could disappear for a while. Just sleep until all this was over.

I swallowed hard. My throat hurt. "You wanna know my secret?"

"Very much," Klaus said.

Couldn't lie. Couldn't lie, he'd hear it.

"I can see the future," I told him, my tone firm and unwavering. "That's the big reveal, Niklaus. I'm clairvoyant."

* * *

**Quick Word From DayStorm** – _Hiya peeps! So, people were asking for a longer chapter! Haha I usually try to stick to around 3,000-word chapters because it feels like the "right" length. Not too long or short, just right. But according to you guys, you wouldn't mind if it was 10,000-words and that makes me all giddy whenever I think of it._

_I have a gift, for the followers of this story._

_Edge of Tomorrow has its own fansite. An actual website, made by me, for my fanfiction. Yay! *cheers* The url is on my Profile page, all you need to do is copy/paste the url and you're off! :D People have been making me fanart and even videos for a while, so the site is nice and plump with things to look at. Holy sh*t the fanart is __**better**__ than the story! Is that embarrassing? A little bit, but I am deliriously happy! The first people I told about the site was my closest fanfic friends (of course) and they've been amusing themselves . . . tremendously . . . testing out my "Q&amp;A with Klaus and Amanda" tab. (And OMG check out The Gallery. There're manips in there that are so well done, you'd swear they were screenshots)_

_Also, on the side, an early bird gift for the fans of my "A Red Sun Rises" story. The re-launch of my ARSR fanfiction is now SET and fast approaching. I do apologize for the year-long sabbatical._

_"__A Red Sun Rises" has undergone a near-total overhaul. Rewritten to better reflect my original vision but with tighter narrative, character dynamic coupled with richer back stories, conflict and a very real sense of risk and loss. Decisions have striking consequences and those will feel very real. Believable._

_The gift . . . is a fansite for that one as well. The url is also on my Profile under the "A Red Sun Rises" slot. I really hope to see you guys over there._

_Much love,_

_DayStorm_


	29. Chapter 28 - The First Challenge

**_*It goes without saying that The Originals and every other film, book or franchise that will be mentioned in this fanfiction belong to their respectful owners. I claim no ownership or association to any of the many "universes" that will be visited in this fanfiction.*_**

**Chapter 27**

**The First Challenge**

* * *

"Eternal glory! That's what awaits the student who wins the Triwizard Tournament but to do this, that

student must survive three tasks. Three _extremely dangerous tasks_."

– **Dumbledore**

_Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_

J.K. Rowling (author)

* * *

"I told you it'd be here," I said, laying both my hands on the wet stone door. Five slithery snake-heads adorned the heavy round entrance to the Chamber beyond. It was damp down here, water running in snaking rivulets over black walls. There was no obvious source of light, and what was there was dim, but I could see.

The intricate detail sculpted into those snakes. Smooth, shiny black scales and narrow eyes. Forked tongues out of spade-shaped mouths. They were delicately beautiful. Not at all sinister as I'd expected.

"You did." Klaus sounded far less impressed.

He moved up beside me and laid one strong hand next to mine. He pressed lightly against the door, moisture glistening around his fingers. His pale vampire skin looked nearly bleached against the black stone. He frowned, but his eyes glinted with dangerous intensity.

I sighed. "Klaus, you can't go in there."

"Why not?"

"Because you _**can't**_," I said. He slid a sidelong sneer my way, and I sighed. "Because only the heir can open that door."

"Which heir?"

"The heir of Slytherine House," I told him. If I answered a little sharply, well, he was pushing me. Seeing how far I would take this charade. I was dead-set on dragging this on for as long as I could.

I could not _**believe**_ I'd lied to him. Clairvoyant? It had seemed like such an obvious ploy, a way to freely explain where my little bits of knowledge came from without giving away the truth. But now I was stuck. Trapped by my own deception.

Because I absolutely could not go back on it.

Klaus frowned and pressed on the door again, leaning his weight into it.

"It's called the Chamber of Secrets. And it's been sealed. Klaus, you really _**can't**_ go in there."

"Is that a challenge?"

"No!" I said empathetically.

Klaus' laugh was wholly unapologetic. He wanted in.

"This whole place used to be guarded by a basilisk monster," I said, returning my attention to the five dark snake heads. Chills prickled over my skin; the damp deepening the icy chill of this outer chamber. "The basilisk is dead, now, so there's no threat. But it got loose once and things got pretty bad."

"How bad?"

I breathed softly. "It was attacking students up in the schools. Would retreat during the day, but at night all bets were off. Terrifying because nobody knew about the monster down here, so kids were being picked off and no one had a clue."

Klaus seemed more fascinated by this than troubled. Would have been nice to see a little empathy. Would have been more surprised if he did, though.

"You know, there's a pretty big prejudice in this world against witches and wizards born into non-magic families. There are some who believe coming from normal parents makes you unworthy of learning magic. Like their blood was dirty, diluted, all that garbage racists throw about."

Klaus' gaze slid over, his eyes glistening with golden lights.

I continued, "The man who founded Slytherin House was one of the worst. 'Course this was, like, a thousand years ago. He really believed that only pure blooded magic users had any right to learn magic. So when he and the other three Founders created this school, he set up this chamber and locked the basilisk inside."

I smiled sweetly, and Klaus waited a beat to see if I would add to that. When I didn't, his eyes narrowed. He knew there was more.

"Fascinating, Amanda. Your point?"

"His name was Salazar Slytherin, founder of Slytherin House . . . you know, the kids in green? Anyway, he thought that magic blood needed to be kept pure. The basilisk locked behind that door was meant to be a trap. Once set loose, it would hunt down and kill half-breeds. You know another word for half-breed? _Hybrid_. Like you."

"You want to die?" Klaus snapped; the words bit out hard and sharp.

I tilted my head, keeping my smile where it was. Light and easy. "You're not going to kill me."

Klaus let his hand slide off the stone and turned to face me. Veins swelled the skin around his shining eyes. I met his gaze, unflinching. Awed by that spectacular color, glowing as if backlit. Amber brown. Gold. Champaign sparkling around his pupils; a starburst of paler color. And red. Just a touch of red for depth, keeping all those brilliant yellows from melting together.

A thrill of unexpected energy cracked, heating my blood with something that was definitely not fear.

Klaus must have realized his little show wasn't having the intended effect. The light in his eyes blinked out.

"You sound certain," he remarked. "Feeling particularly secure in my opinion of you? Because I let you sleep in my arms, or is it just that I haven't done away with you yet?"

"It's because you haven't done away with me yet," I replied. "Duh."

Real humor flitted over his expression. His mouth quirked. Klaus wasn't the kind of man to just laugh because it was funny. He'd laugh at a massacre. At a joke? My sass would need work before he'd indulge in a chuckle at that.

"You still haven't convinced me you know the future," he said. A spark of daring glinting in his blue eyes. _C'mon Amanda, prove it._

I huffed a hot breath through slightly parted lips and crossed my arms, shivering a little in the chilly chamber. My gaze swept around the room. Black stone walls, glistening with moisture. Pools of dark water. That immense door with the five wiggling snake heads, so elegant and beautiful that nothing bad could possibly be hiding on the other side . . . but there was. This whole place was built on intolerance and simmering evil.

"What do you want to know?" I demanded. Tossed my head. "This isn't enough to convince you I'm telling the truth?"

Klaus loomed closer, his sharp smile and dark, hooded expression fiercely predatory. His lean body was all hard, taught muscle and if he wasn't the most exciting man to be around . . . I didn't back away. Standing so close forced me to tilt my face up to his. Klaus leaned in, pressing his cheek to mine so that he could speak straight into my ear – "Every word you said was past, love. Tell me the _**future**_."

My mind spun, searching for half-remembered details from those books I read once. Doubt crowded around, whispering taunts . . . the reality might be nothing at all like in the stories. And if I was wrong . . . would I be wrong . . .

I trembled. "The dragons you saw out in the woods were brought here for the tournament. They are the First Challenge; later today. They'll be guarding a golden egg."

Klaus drew back, his rough cheek rasping on mine. My skin burned a little from the contact. He said, "Headmaster could have told you that."

"He could have," I allowed. "But he _**couldn't**_ know that all four competitors will succeed in stealing that egg from their dragon. Not one of them fails."

* * *

**POV – Klaus**

_I can see the future. That's the big reveal, Niklaus. I'm clairvoyant._

The use of his full name amused him, more than did her feeble attempt at lying to him. AS if she thought using it would help validate her words. It hadn't, and Klaus found a measure of enjoyment in letting this play to its conclusion. It's why he hadn't called her out on it. How long would Amanda carry her lie before it came crumbling down around her?

For her part, Amanda seemed ready to go the mile.

She brought him down to the Chamber of Secrets beneath the school to impress him. He knew he'd flustered her, she didn't know where to go from there. But there would be time enough to make up her mind. They had been invited to attend the first of the Triwizard Tournament challenge. The first of what he understood to be _**three**_ challenges was being held in a stadium high in the mountains outside the school.

The stadium – stone and wood – had not been there when he explored the grounds the day before. It was spectacularly large, with the inside area made to look like a barren and broken quarry. Hard, dark sand and boulders. Jagged pieces of rock broken off and chalky white lines of claws scored across the largest slabs. A smell like burning wafted on the icy breeze. Klaus' sensitive ears easily picked the low, guttural breathing of beasts out of sight . . . far back, beyond the low rise of a hill he couldn't even see through the bulk of the stadium walls.

Klaus and Amanda were given chairs in the faculty box, positioned above the rows of benches for the student body. They were a sea of cloaks crowded together. Kids in mittens and heavy boots, their scarves the only splashes of color in what was an otherwise black and white afternoon.

White snow, black trees, gray sky.

Klaus scanned the faces, searching for the too-pretty boy Amanda thought she fancied but couldn't find him. There were too many faces under snowcaps. Too many identical cloaks. It seemed as if the entire population of the school turned out to watch the show.

He couldn't fault them. Klaus reclined in his seat, bracing one boot on the board in front. Excitement coursed hot through his blood, and impatience. There were dragons – his childhood wonder. So close now. He could not wait to see them; to see them without the blistering heat and black smoke of an enraged beast blinding him. He'd only just glimpsed them before.

None of the showed in his expression.

Amanda had no such reservations. She sat beside him, leaning her entire body forward with her chin resting on crossed arms, heavy on the solid wooden banister. Pale face flushed with happiness as she gazed down into the stadium. None of Klaus' aloofness showing.

"I can't believe this place," she said to him, and her breath whooshed in plumes from her mouth and nose. Small clouds of warm on the frostbitten air. The tip of her nose already glossy from the cold.

"They did offer you a coat," Klaus remarked.

"No, not that."

He knew what she meant. He smiled. She surprised him by smiling in return, eyes that were the same gray as the sky sparkling merrily. Humor surfacing now, where it was safe to indulge it. She looked better, he thought. Rested.

"Okay," Amanda said, coming off the banister so she could talk to him. "First up is Cedric."

Klaus' smile faded. "You'll have to try harder, if you want me to believe you can see the future, love."

Amanda didn't miss a beat, "Point of this challenge is to steal an egg from the dragon guarding it. Cedric is going to succeed . . . you ready for this? . . . he'll do it by turning a rock into a dog."

Klaus' first impulse was to call bullshit but Amanda's expression was open, now, if a little smug. Her mouth quirking up on one side, just daring him to voice a denial.

"You'll see," she said simply.

Yes, he would.

A cheer went up from the crowd; cries amplified by canyons into a roar of noise. Deafeningly loud. Amanda's heartbeat rose above the cacophony; a steady, constant _whoomp-whoomp-whoomp_ in his head. The same sound he'd spent twelve hours listening to, her pulse slow as she slept in his arms. The richness of her scent clogging his senses with something that was nearly euphoric in the effect it had on him. Soothing the rage that seemed to boil just beneath his skin; so hot and whiplash fast it was like liquid heat. And it felt good to indulge that anger.

Two sides of his nature, and they were at war. Always, always at war with each other.

It did not escape his notice that he was sensitive to Amanda's presence.

She had been so fragile, so breakable there in his arms. Asleep, her breaths warm on his chest through the cotton of his sweater. Long lashes the color of autumn wheat fanning cheeks flushed pink from her tears. Exhaustion making her more trusting than she would have been otherwise. Fast asleep and unaware of what she was doing, Amanda had curled her body into his. Seeking the warmth and strength of his body.

And Klaus – fully aware – had held her closer. Allowing her to absorb some of that warmth. Hoping to reassure her in a way no one had ever been there for him.

He hadn't slept, instead dozing lightly for hours . . . feeling a peace settle in him he hadn't known in centuries.

Another deafening roar filled the stadium. A thousand voices raised in excited expectation and Klaus blinked the burn from his eyes. This was a complication he wasn't ready to explore. There would be plenty of time to look more closely, but not now; under the watchful eye of the master wizard.

Klaus turned his head, fixing Dumbledore with a look that was anything but friendly.

The headmaster was seated nearly directly behind Amanda, off to one side. His blue robes replaced with heavier black ones, made of thick, tightly-woven fabric to keep off the cold. His white hair like the mane of a lion, thick and untouched by age. His crown.

The man sat straight up in his chair, wrinkled face set in an expression of quiet contemplation. Dumbledore made no effort to hide the focus of his attention. His eyes, the same burning blue as the base of a candle flame were fixed on Amanda. He ignored Klaus; the strange hybrid creature unlike anything he'd seen before of little consequence.

He watched her as if she were some great mystery. A fascination.

Klaus turned away, to hide the gold swimming in his eyes. Fury riding him at the possessiveness in Dumbledore's weathered face. He pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, feeling the pressure building there as he fought to keep his fangs retracted. The strength of his own emotion surprised him.

Amanda's hand closed over his arm, her warmth seeping through the leather sleeve of his coat. She squeezed gently and then lay her head on his shoulder. Whispering so that only he would hear, "_Its fine, Klaus._"

Prickles of pain stabbed his palm, from where he splintered the arm of his chair from how hard he held onto it. The icy mountain air turning to salt and steel, the tang of his own blood catching at the back of his throat. To his surprise, Amanda slid her hand from where it rested on his arm down to his hand and laced her fingers with his.

* * *

**POV – Amanda**

Klaus was falling apart right beside me; rage just simmering beneath the surface and I knew he was about to come undone. If his body had felt hard before, it was like steel beneath my hands now. Muscles tightening into unbreakable bands and all I could see was the impending bloodbath.

No one – _**no one**_ – had any idea. Dumbledore was drilling holes into the back of my head, his brilliant manipulative thoughts churning on the possibilities presented by my presence here. I was a Visitor. A harbinger. An omen; for good or evil . . . he did not know. How, he wondered, would he use me?

The other teachers were occupied with the goings-on of the Tournament. So much activity just buzzing all around. Scattered throughout the stadium and the surrounding mountainside. And the students, thousands of them in the stands, couldn't have cared less what was going on in the small faculty box set above their heads. They laughed and cheered and waved little paper flags.

He wasn't okay.

Klaus _**wasn't at all**_ okay and I had no idea what had set him off.

A panic so strong it left a taste like pennies in my mouth, and my own pulse thundered in my ears. Each rapid-fire beat tilting whirling in my head. Dizziness cramping my stomach. But I couldn't feel this now. Not now. I fought that mounting panic with everything I had inside of me.

I had to, because Klaus was feeding off of it. The brilliant gold shine in his eyes flared hotter, brighter, tinting with more red than gold. An outward manifestation of his rage.

The arm of Klaus' chair splintered from the force of his hand, shards of dry wood knifing between his fingers. And I took his hand. Without thinking, I forced my fingers down between his ignoring the pinch of splinters. I took his hand in mine and held on as hard as I could.

I didn't know what I was doing. This wasn't some spur-of-the-moment inspiration.

I took his hand and held on for all I was worth because it was the only thing I could do. Klaus could have broken my hand as easily as he shattered the chair. He could have crushed my bones into powder, and it wasn't until I felt his fingers closing over mine that it even occurred to me that he might.

Klaus had a grip like I vice. But he didn't hurt me.

He was shaking. Tiny little tremors and I realized he might have been fighting that roiling anger for all he was worth. That same desperate clutch at control I struggled with. And having recognized what was going on, made me cling to him even harder. Lending whatever strength there was.

"Calm down. Klaus, please calm down."

Slowly, slowly, his grip loosened. The color in his eyes bled away as he regained control of himself.

**XxXxXx**

My ears were ringing.

A combination of gratitude and sharp relief. And a smell like burning metal in my nostrils, stinging every indrawn breath. But we were better now. Klaus was calmer than before. I was afraid to let go of his hand. He didn't seem to mind the contact, so I kept my fingers laced with his and we sat like that. I did not dare turn my head to see how much of what happened Dumbledore saw. The man was already too interested in the things I did.

The headmaster stood up; tall and slender as a willow branch, yet through the weight of his black robes I saw the frame of a man who was still strong. Fit. His shoulders high. Spine straight, set with all the force of his authority. An authority that was made abundantly clear as a hush settled over the heaving mass of adolescent . . . and younger . . . people already high on the excitement of this tournament and impatient to see the start of it. But they all fell quiet, with only a murmur of voices trailing dying off to hear Dumbledore speak.

He was quite a sight. White hair tossed by the howling mountain winds. The whip and flurry of snowflakes shaken loose from the peaks sparkling down around him. Even I felt a thrill of power scuttle down the centre of my back.

"Welcome, friends and peers to this first challenge of our Triwizard Tournament," he said, voice magically enhanced so that it would carry easily to the furthest seats. "Hailing from our own Hogwarts School, and House Hufflepuff, Cedric Diggory will face the Swedish Short Snout; a true beauty. Though pray do not let the splendor of the creature fool you, for the Short Snout is one of the fiercest of its kind. Unparalleled in the air, with a breath that can reduce even bone to ashes."

Give him credit where it was due, Dumbledore knew how to work the crowd. I could see wide eyes and slowly widening grins. A whoop of excitement shattered the stillness and the crowd roared, heaving to its collective feet in a flurry of robes and the wooly applause of mitten-hands.

I glanced at Klaus.

A slight pressure around my fingers; he squeezed my hand. Okay. Okay . . .

Movement down in the stadium arena caught my eye. Cedric stepping out of a narrow crevice between two immense, jagged shards of rock. He wore his house colors, and the yellow was just this splash of sunlight in the gray, foggy, wintery mountain canyon.

He looked good, I thought. Terrified – of course – but very, very good. Even with the distance separating us, he wore the look of someone who was ready for the ordeal he was about to endure. There was a dragon in that arena with him. And the golden egg sparkling like a beacon in the fog, high on a crushed stone table.

Just there for the taking.

* * *

**POV - Klaus**

The boy hesitated on the threshold of the area, the icy wind tugging at his silk sweater like the hands of an insistent lover. Pulling and tugging, urging him to go back. To his credit, he ignored it hardly seeming to even feel the cold. Face ashen from tightly restrained fear, while his cheeks were pinched red from the harshness of the wind and particles of sulfuric vapors wafting from deep crevices between the rocks.

The scent was faint, even for him thought pungent. A clever, subtle trap placed for anyone who stepped into that arena. The sulfurous gases would weaken and sicken the competitors, irritating in their lungs and throat. They would feel it in their nostrils, first, as a burning that would water their eyes.

Beside him, Amanda leaned slightly forward. Interest snared by the appearance of the boy she liked, and concern for him. He watched her carefully for a moment, but didn't think she had any idea that the air inside the arena was poisonous. If she smelled the distinctive, rotten-egg scent wafting on the air she dismissed it as only a bad smell. Too inexperienced – or else simply unaware – of the significance of that particular odor.

A long, silent minute passed where even the children in the stadium were quiet. All watching and waiting . . . waiting for what? For something.

Cedric looked across the arena, carefully scanning the rocky terrain. Nothing moved but the heave and swell of ghostly fog.

Amanda leaned into Klaus, their shoulders pressing together and whispered, "Do you know where it is? Can you tell?"

Oh, absolutely. Klaus could hear the dragon so clearly, he might have been pressing his ear to the beast's chest. The heavy, steady drumming of a large heart. The slide of scales on stone. The smoky exhales of a fire-breathing beast.

"It's in there," he said quietly, unable to keep the smirk from twisting his mouth. There was a sort of savage joy in knowing exactly what he was waiting to see. A dragon. Not a lizard, not a story, but the real mythical monster of his childhood imaginings. _Jomungandr_, he thought, _I found you._

Cedric had been standing too long in the entrance.

Sulfuric gases were heavier than air, and so were at their most lethal closest to the ground where it settled. Cedric was too high to be breathing in the worse of it, but stray vapors did reach him. He couldn't stay where he was, and the boy clearly reached the same conclusion. He stepped further into the arena.

Amanda caught her breath, her hand in his tightening in anticipation.

Cedric slid down the steep incline, tilting his boots into the loose pebbles to steady his descent. Stones clanked and clattered noisily, creating a small cascade of black pebbles like a wake behind the too pretty boy wearing yellow silks.

He arrived at the bottom and darted behind a single jagged piece of slate sticking up out of the ground. Nothing moved. All was so still, so silent.

Amanda released the breath she'd been holding.

Klaus heard the slide of scales, and a quick rush he couldn't place. He narrowed his eyes, scanning the mound of boulders from where the pulsing drumbeat was coming from.

"Ah, he's gonna get himself killed," Amanda moaned and buried her face into Klaus' shoulder.

"You already _**predicted**_ they'd survive, love," Klaus pointed out.

She didn't answer him, but peeked out and then sat back in her seat. Not even interested in hiding her face, it was just the tension of waiting. Their hands were still linked, and her grip on his was firm. Klaus let his fingers loose, not releasing her but making no effort to pull away. He indulged the simple contact.

The boy in the arena was moving again, too scared to linger in his meager hiding place.

His eyes were fixed on the sparkling golden egg; his prize. And though he _**had**_ to recognize how convenient it was for the object to be so prominently displayed . . . he ignored the clear trap and moved toward his objective.

Still, there was nothing. No motion.

The heavy drum increased, the rhythm accelerating. The great pulsing heartbeat of a large, warm-blooded animal just out of sight.

Cedric, oblivious to what he couldn't hear, had already made it to the foot of the raised bump on the ground. Just a hill of loose gravel and sharp, black stone on top of which sat a crumbling stone table. Almost like a nest, with the egg nestled there. The boy paused, tilting his head back to look up at his golden trophy so near and yet suspiciously unguarded.

"It's in the rocks, Cedric," Amanda's warning was scarcely a breath of air.

Klaus' savage grin widened. She'd sensed it.

Cedric's hand descended on the first slick rock and –

– the mountain erupted, releasing a sweltering rush of liquid blue flame that spilled over in a gush of volcanic fire.

The _**heat**_ was unbelievable.

Klaus felt the exposed skin of his hands and face go instantly numb and imagined his leather jacket melting in the furnace. He did wonder how many of the human spectators had just been vaporized. If the too pretty boy Amanda fancied was even still alive.

Klaus' vision cleared quickly as his vampire body immediately adjusted to the environment. Amanda winced away from the scalding heat by burying her face in his shoulder, turning her head to look back so that her hair took the worst of it. Not her skin.

The dragon rocketed straight up as if launched from a cannon. Wings folded tightly along its flanks, neck and tail sticking straight out. The creature was nothing but a bullet-shaped blur.

Klaus watched, forcing his eyes to follow that shape even as the burning and blistering heat prodded at him to shut them tight. He _**wanted**_ to see. Had never wanted anything so much . . .

The Swedish Short-Snout bellowed, coming to the end of its glistening silver chain which kept it from leaving the stadium. Wings like sails blew open, spread so wide they seemed to fill all of the sky. Pale sunshine beamed through the thin, leathery membrane of those spectacular wings and something in Klaus' chest loosened.

He gazed up at the terrible, beautiful animal and thought, in that moment, that a thousand years was not so long to wait. The creature was everything he might have hoped for and more.

The dragon roared; its voice a deep timber that was like the crackling of fire.

"Move, Cedric!" Amanda shouted, startling Klaus.

He looked quickly down into the arena, vaguely surprised to find the human boy survived what amounted to a volcanic eruption. Not only alive but actually sprinting around the small rocky mound on which rested the golden egg. He knew he couldn't scramble up the side, with pebbles and loose stones crumbling under his feet. He was looking for another way.

A thousand voices rose up in cheers and screams; friends shouting advice. Fans shouting encouragement. Others just shouting for the sheer joy of screaming. The noise was deafening and beside him, Amanda was shouting too. She'd let go of his hand and was now banging both fists on the banister in front of them. "Go! Go! Go!"

The dragon folded its wings.

"Cedric!" Amanda screamed. She'd seen it too.

The boy ducked behind a boulder, covering his head with both hands as if that would make any sort of difference. The dragon shot over the arena, its body more like a missile than a bullet. Smooth and powerful. It spit a gout of fire straight at where Cedric was cowering; liquid flames that were nearly white. So hot it burned his eyes just to look at it.

No one else would have heard Cedric's terrified scream over the roar of dragon's breath. The crackling and snapping of those hellfire. Klaus did. His head ringing from the cacophony of sounds, still sensitive enough to pick out the teenager's fear and pain over it all.

The dragon passed directly over the boys head, so near that the wind of its passing ruffled his hair. A single firm beat of its wings brought it back up into the air. The gray, foggy afternoon seeming to swallow the creature up.

"This is insane!" said Amanda, gasping as she slumped back in her chair. Her eyes were wide and fixed on the spot where the dragon had gone. Visible through the shifting fog, but only as a shapeless mass slightly more solid in the clouds. "How is he supposed to do anything? The second he moves, he'll be snapped up like a minnow."

A rhetorical question, she clearly didn't expect him to respond. Klaus said, "You tell me. What is he going to do?"

"I don't know," Amanda admitted with another frustrated sigh. She glanced down into the arena, worry wrinkling between her eyes. Cedric was craning his neck, peeking cautiously over the top of his partially melted boulder. "I don't know why he's not using magic –"

Amanda gasped, breath catching in her throat and Klaus looked to see what was happening.

Cedric shot out from his hiding place, racing across the blackened area. His yellow silk sweater sticking to his skin from sweat and soot. He pulled his wand out as he did, running so fast he was nearly tripping over his own feet. This ridiculously skinny stick held in a white-knuckled grip. The very tip of the wand glowed faintly blue. Magic pooling there. The golden egg sparkled on its pedestal.

The dragon dove. Bursting from the smoky clouds like an avenging demon; evil, reptilian eyes. Hissing tongue. Licks of flame spilling from its nostrils. Gaping maw bristling with teeth like bones needles. These slender, pointed fangs all in a row. Quills like the spines of a cactus bristling down the length of its serpentine body. There were tougher horns on its face, over each eye and along its blunt snout.

Dragon really was beautiful.

Its scales were small, supple things that moved with the creature rather than the large, hard plates Klaus would have imagined. More like snakeskin than fish scale. Its coloring; not green but a brilliant silvery blue. The wings were narrow and sharp, like those of a falcon or sparrow. Built for speed and maneuverability.

Two powerful hind legs, ending in talon feet and hooked claws. The creature had no front feet, instead its chest like that of a bird. And what would have been arms instead fanning out into those gorgeous wings. It had no front legs.

Speed. This was a creature that struck fast and hard. A stalker. A pouncer. Like a leopard it would drop down on its prey. And Klaus saw in an instant of inspiration the weakness . . . hind legs, top-heavy and nothing to support that forward weight . . . the dragon could not land. On the ground it was next to useless. But all that weight . . . it could not stay aloft forever.

Klaus allowed a slow, appreciate smile. A measure of respect for the short-lived mortal below.

To Amanda he said, "Your friend is baiting the creature."

"W-what?" Not even pretending to be in her seat anymore, Amanda was on her feet. Hands braced on the banister staring in rapt horror down into the arena.

Klaus grabbed a handful of her jacket and yanked her down. The creature was coming around again, making another pass. Cedric launched himself under cover, rolling his body over the sharp stones like a batter sliding home. Blood and smoke and sulfur combined and the smell was absolutely rank. Cedric was now fully out of his sight; lying flat under an overhanging slab of black rock that would crush him if it fell. Amanda's pulse at a full gallop, and she stuffed her fist in her mouth.

The dragon rushed the earth, hissing furiously through its teeth and landed with a heavy thump. Dropping its hind legs first, knees bending to cushion the force of impact. Wings backbeat, whipping up dust and smoke. Deadly vapors whirling over the ground.

Cedric's tactic had succeeded. He'd managed to get the great beast out of the air, tiring it enough to force it to land. The dragon chuffed, blowing out twin plumes of black smoke. Blue fire dribbled from its mouth, from between its teeth, in steaming dollops that hissed where it struck.

Klaus looked with some apprehension at the narrow opening under the overhanging slab. He couldn't see the human from this vantage, but the dragon was so near to the place he was hiding that it quickly became clear Cedric was trapped. Trapped on his belly on the ground, where every choked breath drew that sulfurous gas into his body.

He had nowhere to go.

The dragon moved, crawling powerfully up the small mountain in the centre of the arena. Curling its tail around the stony mound, it crouched at the top and spread both leathery wings down the sides. Nesting the golden egg it was given to protect.

From his hiding place, Cedric gave an ominous little gasp. A wet cough.

"I guess you were wrong," Klaus said softly, speaking to Amanda. "They won't _**all**_ make it."

* * *

**Quick Word From DayStorm –** _Hope the length of this chapter is worth the wait. I know it's been a while since my last update, but life gets in the way sometimes. lol The cliffhanger was deliberate, this is exactly where I wanted to end this chapter, and I am not sorry! :)_


	30. Chapter 29 - How It Ends

**_*It goes without saying that The Originals and every other film, book or franchise that will be mentioned in this fanfiction belong to their respectful owners. I claim no ownership or association to any of the many "universes" that will be visited in this fanfiction.*_**

**Chapter 29**

**How It Ends**

* * *

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

– **Peter Pettigrew**

_Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_

J.K. Rowling (author)

* * *

My throat hurt from the lump lodged there.

Cedric was in the narrow recess between the ground and a two-ton slab of granite. The dragon's wings were draped down both sides of the small rise, where the creature was nesting a golden egg and it was those wings that scared me the most. Smooth, pterodactyl wings shining blue and silver in the pale winter sunshine . . . and one of them was pressing down on Cedric's overhanging rock.

I couldn't tell from where I was if that big, flat rock was secure, or how much pressure it would take for the whole thing to slam down.

"Move, get out of there," I whispered into my hands. I knew even as I said it that he couldn't do that; there was no question the dragon would see him. The way the creature was positioned, with its long neck resting down the length of the incline, so that its blunt snout brushed the ground . . . one yellow eye pointed straight at Cedric's perilous hiding place. If he even _**moved**_ he was dead meat.

Klaus seemed to have reached the same conclusion. "He's going to die."

"He's not going to die!" I shout out.

His gaze bored into mine and my insides trembled under that weighted stare. I was the first to look away, not wanting to see my own naivety broadcast back at me. _Don't be stupid._ I wasn't; believing that Cedric would survive this. I was hopeful. I trusted as much as I was able to, given the strange circumstances that brought me to this place. This moment. The unexplainable tidbits of information I carried with me more a burden than a blessing. Because now I _**knew**_ things. I had to believe in something and all I could think was: screw the bigger picture. Cedric would make it.

Smoke swirled over the stony ground of the stadium. The dragon breathing heavily, licks of blue flame danced in its nostrils. The creature was so big! Elegantly beautiful, deadly monster.

Seconds crawled. Painfully slow where only that eerie fog moved, and I could feel time ticking on my nerves. _Beat-Beat-Beat_. Or was that my heart? I turned to Dumbledore, unsurprised to find him already watching me.

"You can stop this."

"I cannot."

He said it like that was the end of it. The audience began to mutter uneasily. Growing restless in the prolonged silence, they were eager for action. Eager for a bit of blood. Frustration burned, leaving a bad taste in my mouth.

"The rules of this Tournament must be adhered, child. Young Cedric Diggory understood the peril when he submitted his name for the opportunity to compete, and that to be chosen constituted a binding magical contract."

"This isn't a game." I swept my hand back, to show the giant-ass lizard nesting a fake egg. Smoke wafted from between the beasts' needle teeth. "What if he dies?"

"Didn't you just finish telling me you could see the future?" Klaus muttered silkily, raising the hairs on the back of my neck. "How does this end, love?"

I didn't know. Cedric's fight with the dragon was never shown in the books, only referenced. I had no idea if this was going the way it should. All I knew . . . all I knew . . . was not enough and it was maddening. I hadn't realized just how many gaps there were until I was being called upon to provide information. The books, the movies, the shows I used to watch on TV. They were just snapshots. _**So many**_ things would happen off-screen.

Dumbledore heard Klaus' unguarded remark. Interest moved in eyes that were like chips of ice. So blue. So silver. Piercing and intelligent in a way that made me feel like he could see straight into my mind. Peel back those layers of false complexity and see me exactly the way I was. Small. Afraid. Terribly lost.

He already thought I was a Visitor from another reality, come here with the power to influence the world. Objectively, he should have been half half-right. But I knew that he was totally wrong. I wasn't a visitor. I was here by chance, not design. I had no purpose. No motive.

Loneliness swelled like a weight in my chest. Homesickness.

I swallowed hard, hating Dumbledore's probing attention. How much of what I was thinking could he see?

"Our students have many options available to them," Dumbledore said, and for just a second I lost the train of the discussion and was confused by what he meant. "A promising young wizard has all the tools he may require to defend himself – even from a dragon should the need arise. Our world is a dangerous place and our young do not possess the same vulnerabilities as would a muggle child."

"You make it sound like he's not human."

Dumbledore's smile was indulgent. "Have faith in your friend."

"Your _**friend**_ is going to die," Klaus remarked, speaking straight into my ear.

I spun, startled by his nearness. Klaus had needed to lean far over to reach me, twisted around in my seat the way I was and when I turned so quickly he pulled back just enough so that we didn't bump foreheads.

We were eye-to-eye, and I stared straight into his. My gaze drawn there with a magnetic pull that thrummed with echoes of compulsion. Power beat between us and it was exciting.

So close that his breath wafted warm on my face. Klaus smelled of snow and damp leather. A heady combination that was at once sharp and clean. I slept nestled against him just last night, but being this close to him now was so much more _**intimate**_. We were sharing the same air; breathing the same breath.

I cleared my throat, eyes sweeping down and away.

"What are you doing?"

"Right now, love? Calling you on your nonsense."

"What do you mean?"

"Can you see the future?"

Frustration simmered, rising unwanted heat to my cheeks. "Cedric _**is**_ going to live."

Klaus answering smile was so sharp it could have cut glass and I knew he was looking forward to watching my _'prediction'_ fail. Given that the only way I would be wrong is if Cedric died . . . whatever excitement I felt was swept away by sheer irritation.

I grabbed the banister with both hands and looked down into the stadium.

I noticed then what I'd overlooked before. A whitish mist drifting lazily over the stony ground of the arena. I'd _**seen**_ it but assumed it was just fog; warmer air thickening in the thin, cold mountain atmosphere. But it wasn't condensation . . . the mist almost seemed to slither over the rocks. Snaking between jagged shards of black stone. Pooling heavily in crevices; into the lowest places with the same fluidity as liquid moving downhill.

"That would be sulfur," Klaus said, following my gaze down.

I took a breath. "Sulfur."

"Hm. Your boy had better stand up soon; else he'll never stand again."

"I can't believe you actually just said that."

"Really?" Klaus kicked back, bracing one black-booted foot on the plank in front of him. "Odd. Sounds like exactly the sort of thing I would say."

Worry was a gnawing ache in my stomach as I watched the vapors waft and swirl around the arena. The dragon breathed deeply, black smoke and flames spilling from its bristling maw. The beast's head snaked around the rocky mound where it roosted, nostrils flaring wide.

It'd caught a scent, and I was at the edge of my seat chewing on my lip so hard that I was tasting blood.

The most expectant hush fell over the spectators. A whole crowd just suddenly voiceless as they waited to see what would happen.

White beams of magical light webbed over the stony ground, crackling outward from Cedric's hiding place to knock and rattle loose stones where it passed. I frowned, recognizing a spell but unsure what it was meant to do. A distraction? What was that?

The Swedish Short-Snout saw the lights and lifted itself up onto its hind legs; splintering rock beneath its powerful talons. Pterodactyl-like wings folded loosely around itself. Glowing eyes followed the magical lights for a moment, nostrils again flaring wide. The creature howled then, and deep in its mouth I could see the hot blue glow of fire boiling in its throat.

The dragon kicked off from the little hill, revealing its fake egg gleaming brilliant gold in the pale winter sunshine.

It moved like a dancer in the sky.

Effortlessly elegant. Heartbreakingly beautiful.

Its wings beat with the most precise turns; supple muscles sliding beneath scaly skin. Its tail ended in a wide fan, which it used like a rudder to balance and direct itself while in the air. Those long spines running down the length of its body seemed almost to ripple with the wind.

Movement down below returned my attention to the arena. Cedric was wiggling out from beneath the overhanging slab of black stone . . . his skin ashen, face drawn with exhaustion. Golden brown locks plastered to his face and neck from sweat. I held my breath, drinking in the sight of him. He didn't look well at all.

But at least now he was out.

The little spell cast to distract the dragon, so that he would have the few seconds necessary to crawl out of his hiding place. The dragon circled restlessly at the end of its silver chain, and bellowed. Fire crackling in its voice.

Cedric tilted his head up, scanning the sky.

"Cedric! Cedric! Cedric!" cheered the crowd.

He turned his attention to the sparkling golden egg on the hill behind him.

To my surprise, he didn't immediately rush for the egg. This would end the moment he laid his hands on it, and the dragon was far enough that he might . . . _**might**_ . . . just make it. Instead, he pulled his wand out from his sleeve. The tip still glowing with unspent magic.

Cedric made no effort to hide. Standing in the open, the icy wind snapping his yellow silks while raking through his sweaty hair. He stared defiantly up at the dragon like he meant to call it down to him.

The dragon howled and pulled its sharp wings close to its body, swooping down in a powerful dive. Like a lance. A spear. An arrow. The creature hurtled toward the earth, fire spilling from its mouth and blown back by its speed along the length of its neck. Sliding harmlessly off its own scales.

"CEDRIC!" I screamed.

The wizard lifted his wand – this slim length of wood; comically inconsequential – and shouted words I couldn't hear over the cacophony of noises beating in my head. It was so loud! Cheers and screams from the crowd, the whistle of the wind and a crackling like fire. The dragon's own roars. There was too much going on for me to hear anything Cedric said.

Magic burst from the end of Cedric's wand. Bright yellow light, radiant in the gray overcast afternoon. Like brilliant sunlight breaking through the clouds. Blinded, the dragon pulled up from its swoop – snapping its wings open to climb again. Clumsily now, he was so low that the dragon's weight kept pulling him down.

It's tail swept the ground, shattering a boulder and shards of broken rock flew. I ducked, wincing against the tiny missiles. From the corner of my eye, Klaus caught a stone in his fist, hand shooting up with blinding speed to keep the pebble from hitting him.

Cedric was down on his knees, having ducked to avoid that whip-like tail as it swept just over his head. He didn't stay there long. Already he was on his feet, darting swiftly over the rocks. Powerful and fast, I was reminded that Cedric was actually athlete.

I tried to gauge where he was going, guess what he had planned but it was hard to see. Cedric dodged often; darting behind things. Using these huge broken stones as cover, shielding himself from the menace above. And with every step, he was moving _**away**_ from his objective – putting serious distance between him and that blasted egg.

. . . I had my fist wedged in my mouth.

"It's just a game, love," Klaus drawled with infuriating indifference.

I blinked, surprised to find tears roll down my cheeks. My eyes watering in the cold and stinging wind, while I stared unblinking at the drama unfolding below. Klaus wasn't even looking at that, his attention wholly on the mythical beast that was, for whatever reason, very real in this place.

"Some game," I retorted.

His mouth pulled sharply up on one side, and without turning his gaze from the majestic animal circling overhead said, "That's exactly what this is. Lethally dangerous. Cruel._** Game**_. Your friend recognizes that and has opted to play by its rules. Crying at the unfairness of it changes nothing."

He just called me emotional.

I let that slide, and turned my divided attention back to what was going on in the arena. A game, Klaus said. Fine. My heart was pounding away in my chest, adrenaline coursing hot through my blood but I wasn't hysterical. I sat down and braced both arms on the banister in front of me, leaning slightly forward so that I could properly see and . . . breathed.

The Swedish Short-Snout seemed calmer, far more sedate than before. It was circling restlessly, it's shadow gliding over the broken boulders and smooth swaths of granite that made up the arena's mountainous floor. Eyes like smoldering embers were fixed unerringly on the human boy, following his journey through the blasted terrain with something very much like contempt; if I could assign human emotion to that spiked reptilian visage.

The dragon circled lower.

What was Cedric's plan?

In the books, he used magic to turn a boulder into a dog; distracting his dragon long enough for him to acquire the golden egg and end this. That's what the books _**said**_. I still didn't know if I could rely on that source, because this was _**real**_. I wasn't stuck in the pages of a novel. It was an alternate universe, not a mirror.

And then I saw it.

The trap.

**XxXxXx**

On my feet, screaming. "Turn around! Cedric! TURN – AROUND!"

He couldn't hear me.

I was one voice in thousands. Noise. Just noise.

And I wasn't the only one who'd realized what was happening. Now other students were shouting, the excitement of the game replaced by hysterical fear as they saw it too. Professor McGonagall, the stern-faced matronly teacher stood up like she was yanked out of her seat. Weathered face creased with worry. Hagrid, who I recognized only from the bulk of his size and the shaggy mess of hair and beard, bellowed out a dismayed cry too deep to penetrate the higher volume of younger voices all screaming at once.

Klaus leaned forward, bracing his hands on the banister. Grinning. Watching with insulting fascination as Cedric ran headlong to his own dismemberment. He was going to die, and no one would do anything about it.

I saw the trap as clearly as if I'd set it myself.

The arena was built like a blasted, lifeless quarry. All rock and swirling fog. Cedric's silk jersey the only splash of color down there, it was a spot of sunlight in the gray. Cedric was fast and powerful, darting across the arena like a hare.

Never quite in the open. Never exactly exposed.

He was almost at the wall of the stadium. Solid white rock at the base, turning to wood up where the spectator seats began. Ironically, having nowhere to go was not the threat.

It wasn't the trap.

I narrowed my eyes against the cold and stinging wind, raking numb hands through my hair to shove it out of my face. Long strands tangled and knotted between my fingers, the sharp tug on my scalp inflaming my frustration even further.

I touched Klaus' arm, leather sleeve both icy cold against my skin and warm from the heat of his body. "Can't you do something?"

"What would you like me to do?" he said. "Slay the dragon for him? Throw him over my shoulder and carry him to safety?"

"I . . . can you?"

Klaus' lips pulled back in a grin too feral to be called a smile. "Should I?"

I hesitated, catching my bottom lip with my teeth. Without meaning to, I swung my gaze around to find Dumbledore. The wise, shrewd old man sitting right behind me. Close enough to touch. His eyes were like chips of ice. Blue. Silver. He was listening to us, and in my mind echoed words like prophesy:

"_Harbingers. Omens. Neither good nor evil, they were believed to influence the world. Scholars once believed that these visitors came to us in times of great turmoil. Later, it was assumed that they arrived as signs of disaster to come . . . whether they came as saviors, or to quicken the looming disaster was subjective."_

And I trembled.

He told me those things in a warm study, over tea and ginger cookies.

Dumbledore was waiting. Always, always just waiting. Watching. Tireless in his attention and that worried me. He wanted to see what I would do. Wanted to see my mistakes. Wanted to see pieces of me in my behavior.

I could not give him that.

Distrust and anger burned like a bad taste in my mouth.

To Klaus I said, "No. No, don't do anything. Don't help him."

Klaus shot a look over my shoulder, and I turned my attention to Cedric. He was almost at the wall, now, closing in on the edge of the arena. His chest heaving as he sucked in the thin mountain air.

"Turn _**around**_, Cedric."

I didn't raise my voice. Didn't shout the warning. There was no point. Voiceless amongst the throng of others all screaming, there was nothing I could do but clasp my hands together and watch him run away from the shadow circling ever nearer.

I had _**no clue**_ what he was doing. I glanced at the wall again, sweeping my gaze around the base thinking maybe he knew something I didn't. But there was nothing down there that would help him.

"Boy's running headlong to his own death," Klaus remarked.

I said, "Don't say that."

"So much for your psychic powers, love. When this is over, you and I are going to talk."

Cedric skidded on a mound of loose pebbles, throwing up his arms to balance and allowed himself to slide down the low incline. The dragon swooped lower for a second, tucking in its sharp wings but gave a hard flat and went back up.

Eyes like embers glinted.

He was at the stretch of open space, right before the wall. This – this – was where he would be most vulnerable. Maybe two hundred feet of wide open. Nowhere to hide. My heart was pounding. Hammering behind my ribs like it was trying to get out. I was at the edge of my seat.

Cedric moved carefully around a glossy boulder jutting out of the earth like a knife. Placed one pale hand on the stone, trusting the sharpness to keep the dragon from diving on him while he peered out at that dangerous, flat lowland. I could see his shoulders heaving as he tried to catch his breath. The long length of his wand clasped in his fist down by his hip. The very tip still sparkled with unspent magic but Cedric was tired now.

The dragon landed with a heavy thump, powerful hind legs bracing as it gave its weight over. The creature folded its wings around rocks like monoliths on either side. The thin membrane of leathery skin trembled and steam rose from its body.

Cedric glanced back, craning his neck around to watch as the huge beast settled itself amongst the forest of sharp stone.

The dragon chuffed, blowing plumes of black smoke from its nostrils.

Cedric closed his eyes, resting his forehead on the back of his hand. Bracing himself for what came next.

_Don't do it. Don't do it . . ._

"He's going to do it," Klaus jeered.

I shot the Hybrid a furious look, which he ignored, and then stood up. Wound too tight to tolerate this standing up, my whole body hummed with tension. _A promising young wizard,_ Dumbledore had called him. Cedric's future didn't look particularly promising to me.

I banged my fists on the banister, silently pleading with him to turn back. He still couldn't see the trap, it was sunken into the ground. Obvious but only from above.

Cedric bolted from his hiding place, firing out like he was shot from a cannon.

The dragon _**roared**_! Fire spilling from its maw with a blast of incredible heat. I wanted to slap my hands over my ears but Cedric didn't falter. A bolt of bright yellow silk and a glowing wand in one white-knuckled fist. He was _**fast**_.

The dragon launched itself into the air, powerful wings snapping furiously down.

Cedric pelted toward that whitewashed wall as if salvation lay that way, silky locks of golden-brown hair flying in a wind of his own making. My heart was in my throat, a silent litany of _"he lives. He lives. In the books, he lives"_ the only thing happening in my head at that moment.

Black shadow sliding so smoothly over the lava rock . . .

. . . following him.

The trap, unseen, right ahead. Running straight for it.

A thousand voices of his friends, his peers, a thousand witches and wizards screaming warnings down at their peer but doing _**nothing**_ to stop him. Professor McGonagall implored Dumbledore to stop this, receiving only silence from the headmaster in return.

The dragon bellowed, it's shadow passing straight over Cedric's body. Rippling in the uncertain sunlight, dappled through thick gray clouds. It startled him. Cedric stumbled, just a little, hunching his shoulders against the passing menace. The dragon turned in a lazy circle, coming back around. Red eyes smoldering with fiery embers.

Cedric lifted his wand, screaming words I couldn't hear over the roar of the wind and my own wildly beating heart. He shouted and the blue shining from his wand grew brilliantly bright. Light fanning out to encompass the whole of the arena.

Dragon screamed –

– the light blinked out.

Cedric fell down, his foot breaking through a brittle bubble in the stone . . .

. . . and his wand flew from his hand, spinning away to clatter and dance over the ground before slipping mindlessly into a steaming fissure.

* * *

**QUICK WORD FROM DAYSTORM – **_Hiya, peeps! :) I wasn't going to update this fic until after the re-launch of my other story (September 2__nd__), but I figured I should at least give you all a little something to nibble on. The cliffhanger where I left you was . . . cruel. hehe_

_What a place to just stop!_

_Quick reminder: this story has its own fansite (URL on my Profile) and I update the Home Page newsfeed regularly with alerts, news on what's going on with upcoming chapters, worlds, information about characters, sneak peeks and so much._

_The Q&amp;A is definitely worth a look, too. It's where you can ask questions to me, but also to __**any character in this story**__ and they will "answer" as themselves. Use the Contact tab to ask a question, but if you're not comfortable with that I also accept them through FanFic PMs . . . just don't forget to mention the question is for the fansite otherwise I'll just answer it like it's a regular PM._

_Wishing you all, all the best_

_DayStorm_


	31. Chapter 30 - Rock and a Hard Place

**_*It goes without saying that The Originals and every other film, book or franchise that will be mentioned in this fanfiction belong to their respectful owners. I claim no ownership or association to any of the many "universes" that will be visited in this fanfiction.*_**

**Chapter 30**

**Rock and a Hard Place**

* * *

"There you go, Harry! [. . .] You weren't being thick after all – you were showing moral fiber!"

– **Ron Weasley**

_Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_

J.K. Rowling (author)

* * *

He fell.

I couldn't believe it. Cedric fell down, right under the nose of a predator.

Cedric pitched forward, slamming only his knees with a pained shout. He threw his wand; this slim piece of magical wood clacking over the rocks to disappear into a narrow fissure that steamed in the cold. And just like that, this _'promising young wizard'_ became just another teenage boy. Very human under the shadow of a monster.

The crowd heaved, wands coming out. Black cloaks flying. Panic from the audience who knew just as well as I did what would happen now. Dumbledore held up his arms, bellowing in a voice enhanced by magic; directions to remain calm. Not to engage the dragon . . . not to _**interfere**_.

In that moment – that split second of frozen mayhem – I wondered if they would really let him die. I'd been afraid for Cedric before, watching this cat-and-mouse game between a boy and a dragon, but still I knew he would be okay. The Tournament was just a game. Dangerous, yes, but of course there would be people to pull him out.

To my horror, no one did.

The dragon folded its wings – silent as a ghost, it descended on the wiggling bit of meat. What predator could resist temptation like that?

"I can't watch," I breathed, unable to tear my gaze away.

_Run, Cedric. Get up . . ._

Fire spilled from the dragon's maw, hissing in the thin mountain air.

Cedric twisted at the waist, rolling his entire body around and hurled something at the monster. A small missile which struck one burning eye with impressive accuracy. A stone. A pebble grabbed from the ground. He threw a _**rock**_ at a dragon and the craziest part is that it worked!

The Swedish Short Snout faltered, eyes slamming closed in an instinctive wince at the tiny projectile. Leathery wings unfurled, flapping madly as the creature backpedaled – momentum driving it forward.

I drew my feet up onto the seat, curling in on myself. Unconsciously mimicking the way Cedric was pulling his limbs in, covering his head with his hands to protect himself from flying debris and the dragon's wild flailing. Powerful wings slamming down on either side of him, while T-Rex talons scored over the ground, leaving open rounds in solid stone.

This wasn't soil. It was actually rock and those claws gouged into it like it was cheese.

The _**power**_ of this animal! It was incredible.

I couldn't imagine what I would do in that position, but Cedric wasn't finished. He tumbled, ducking under a foot as large as his own body and then vaulted up. Up-and-running all in one smooth motion. Limbs stiffening from fear, face blotchy pale, but still fast and remarkably surefooted. Maybe he just didn't want to fall again but he didn't put a foot wrong. On this flat but treacherous stretch, littered with debris and fissures, steam rising in disorienting wafts . . . Cedric was a fricken' cheetah. A swift, bright yellow bolt.

"I can't believe this kid," Klaus said, managing to sound annoyed and in awe all in one breath.

The dragon roared, fire spilling from its throat in a liquid gout of white and glowing blue. Flames so hot that they seared me, burning the skin of my hands and face, even with the distance. Cedric shouted, covering the back of his head with his hands and hunching his shoulders against the terrible inferno.

He dove!

Not a fall this time, he launched himself bodily over the ground. Struck the steaming fissure where his wand had disappeared. The fissure was opened like tectonic plates, with one side pushing up out of the ground while the other angled downward. But the opening was _**large**_ enough that I could have crawled inside – tight, but I would have fit.

Cedric didn't climb inside. The steam escaping from the opening whistled like pressure was building underground, releasing out through the hole but not fast enough. That was _**heat**_ escaping.

The Swedish Short Snout, a gorgeous animal at a distance was magnificent close up . . . but also terrifying. The creature rose swiftly, still blinking away the sting of a pebble thrown in its eye. A little bewildered by what'd happened. Angry. Very, very angry.

I saw it.

Klaus saw it.

His gaze followed the dragon's rapid ascent, powerful wings beating to hasten it's climb . . . and t hen flick to the human on the ground, scrabbling on his hands and knees. A frown creased between Klaus' blue eyes, without even a hint of hybrid gold showing. On anyone else I would have called the expression one of concern. On Klaus . . . no difference. I couldn't set him apart this time. He looked worried.

Cedric dropped to his stomach, flattening his body onto the ground and stuck his entire arm into the hissing fissure.

"No, no!" I screamed.

Cedric closed his eyes to protect them from the steam. His face gone suddenly red. He fished around inside the hole and then . . . and then . . .

. . . pulled his arm out.

His hand was empty. No wand.

He couldn't find it! Oh, god.

He writhed in pain and I choked with sympathetic agony. Beside me, Klaus hissed. Cedric opened his watery eyes, dark gray and exhausted in the shifting mist. Eyes that were full of pain but also a grim sort of defiance. _You want me, dragon, take me._ Lying on his back on the ground, suffocating in the sulfurous white mist too heavy to rise. Stubbornly un-cowed by the impossible circumstances of his condition.

Cedric watched the dragon as it circled, murder burning in those ember-like eyes.

The dragon roared! Cedric rolled over and thrust his red-broiled arm back into the fissure. The dragon folded its wings and dove straight down. Not falling, but a guided missile locked on target. Cedric had maybe six seconds –

– howling with pain, Cedric spun onto his back with a length of wood gripped in both hands and screamed an incantation that blasted a concussive wall of pure magical energy straight into the dragon's bristling face.

Power swept out from that spell, hitting me and everyone like a physical shove. My hair flew back, whipping violently around my head and if I hadn't already been sitting down that blast would have shoved me straight off my feet.

The monster broke. This time unable to resist the brutal clutch of gravity, its wings crumpled with the sheer shock of Cedric's spell.

It _**crashed**_!

Tail and wings and neck all folding under the weight of its scaly body, while the dragon slid flailed over the ground. Breaking through boulders and toppling monolith-like spears of black stone. Shards flew, sharp as knives. Some struck Cedric brutal blows, but he ignored all that. He had to.

On his feet and desperate now to end this, he backed away from the monster's uncontrolled advance.

I screamed! The crowd screamed!

But it was too late.

Cedric's foot landed on open air, and he pitched into the Trap he never knew was there.

**XxXxXx**

The whirling mist and dust, thick as a cloud billowing up from where Cedric had gone down hid him from sight. I held my breath, heart pounding in my head as I waited for that curtain to settle. Only a little way off, the dragon was writhing like a snake. All tail and neck, slowly maneuvering its lithe body around. Anything but a dragon would be dead now, having struck the ground with all the force of a meteor falling out of the sky.

Cedric hazed slowly back into sight, his ruined yellow silks punching through the floating gray dust. Such a bright, clean color in the sickly vapors and fog drifting lazily over the ground, spilling down into cracks and crevices. Heavy air. Poisoned air.

The trap Cedric fell into wasn't so clear, unless you saw the nightmare it presented.

It was a trench, dug around the circumference of the arena. Thirty feet wide, it wasn't some little thing he could just climb back out of. Located right at the base of the stadium wall the bottom of the trench was filled with gravel. _**Little**_ gravel. These tiny, loose pebbles that would turn and shift under Cedric's feet, burying him up to his shins in something that worked very much like quicksand. It pulled at him, the weight of the rocks holding him in place.

Cedric pressed both hands into the gravel on either side of his body, straining to pull himself up to the top of it. Not happening. His hands would sink into the shifting quagmire, pebbles too loose to provide the leverage he needed. His wand still clenched in a white-knuckled grip. He wasn't letting go of that again.

The dragon hissed, black smoke and heat escaping from lungs that whooshed like a bellows.

Frustration and urgency passed over Cedric's expression, one melting into another so quickly. He couldn't stay there. There was no question. He had to get moving _**now**_. He abandoned trying to pull himself up, defaulting to what he knew best. Magic. Lifting his wand, Cedric pointed the tip down to the rocks shifting around his waist and spoke. The stones blew apart, dissolving into harmless dust so fine it might have been cloud.

His dragon was now back in the game. It arched its powerful neck, leveraging it body high enough to roll out of the crater created by its collision. The dragon slithered upright, majestic and deceptively beautiful in the gray sunshine.

It unfurled its wings, shaking them out and loosening the leathery membrane between each delicate bone holding the wing-shape. The wings were undamaged; a fact the dragon seemed to appreciate, but hesitancy kept it from flying again. As I watched, it folded its wings carefully along both flanks and began to walk in the direction where Cedric had gone . . .

"It's up!" somebody shouted, the one voice rising over all the others. Immediately, the cry was taken up until everyone was shouting it. Making sure Cedric heard and understood.

Oh, he heard alright.

Cedric looked quickly around, and then plowed forward as quickly as he was able. Moving through weightless dust that still came up to his knees. Using his wand to dissolve new gravel in front of him, when he reached the edge of his spell's limit. There was still so much rock to wade through! He looked like he was leaving a trail through snow. Magic and dust where he passed, unbroken black stones ahead.

Like a demon rising over the edge of the Earth, the dragon appeared. Cedric froze at the sight of the beast. Claws closed over the lip of the trench, splintering solid stone. Long, thick neck arching up in a swan-like crescent. The spines on the dragon's head, like the bristles on a brush. The creature roared with a voice that crackled with fire. Shining light could be seen boiling at the back of its throat and Cedric lifted his tiny little wand in this last, feeble attempt to save himself . . .

His wand came up.

I slapped both hands over my face, peeking through my finger in disbelief and horror. Unable to watch. Unable to look away. His wand sparkled, magic boiling along the length of it. Power twining with the wood and the magic at its core. Blue and white and green and beautiful.

He didn't strike the dragon.

Instead, Cedric swept his wand around and shouted incomprehensible words . . . _**away**_ from the dragon. Totally in the other direction. A sparkling bolt of magical energy shot down the length of the trench. Fast. Faster! Lovely green light that struck a protruding piece of broken boulder. The rock so much larger than the rest, it must have collapsed when the dragon went crashing into the ground. It was a rock that did not belong with all the other. Broken, crumbling pieces of black lava-rock.

The dragon didn't even look that way, red and yellow eyes smoldering like burning coals. Fire dribbling from lizard fangs. Needles in a mouth so large it would snap Cedric up in a single bite. I had this split-second flash of how birds would snap up and swallow a fish. Just these little sparkling brown fish gone in one jerky gulp.

Exhausted, Cedric dropped to his knees.

Green light cracked over the boulder, lightning which just sort of danced over the surface of the stone. Furious, jerky energy like fingers dancing over the face of a loved one. What was happening there? I slid my gaze back to Cedric; face beaded with sweat and sickly gray. That was it. He was done.

The dragon howled and its wings blew open, catching the wind like sails! Light filtering through those thin leathery membranes, and the red webbing of blood vessels. Its wings so perfectly constructed that the whirling breeze was almost enough to lift a ton of muscle and bone straight off the ground.

Something else moved. I turned my head but Klaus was on his feet, leaning so far over the banister he nearly pitched himself over the side. Shock registering where nothing else had been able to touch him. He blocked my view of what was going on . . .

"No," he gritted through his teeth.

What? What was happening?

I grabbed the banister and heaved myself up, trying to see. My arm brushed Klaus' arm, and to my surprise he pulled away from me. I didn't understand why and then I saw _**it**_.

The boulder, the magic . . . the boulder . . .

In the books, Cedric beat his dragon by transforming a rock into a dog.

In real life, Cedric turned a boulder half the size of a house into a wolfhound.

My "prediction" had come true and nerves all through my body began to tingle. Klaus wouldn't look at me. Suspicion and a cutting distrust in the way he averted his eyes. It hurt more than I was willing to admit; a needle of pain that by every right should have been fear, not this heavy ache beating behind my heart.

No fear that he knew I was lying but still managed to be right – that he would learn the truth. He would push for the truth now. No more games. Waiting for my prediction to fall flat, it hadn't. This changed everything and I had no idea where we would go from there. Because as desperately as I wanted to come clean . . . he wouldn't let me wait till I was ready. The decision was being made for me and down below Cedric was climbing clumsily to his feet. Swaying with tiredness but still so brave.

The dog lifted its wet nose and sniffed curiously. It was huge, bigger than a normal animal though nowhere near the size of the rock that formed it. The creature looked very much like a skinny wolfhound, only with glossy black fur like onyx polished to a mirror-finish. The only evidence that this was not a real dog.

Effectively distracted by the sudden appearance of a moving-thing, the dragon shut its flaming jaws and snaked its head around to watch as the dog pawed at the pebbles.

Cedric couldn't risk continuing to dissolve the gravel dragging at him; drawing the dragon's attention. He scrambled on hands and knees for the wall of the trench. I sank down into my chair, huddling in my jacket and watched him struggling to move. To make any sort of distance. Very aware of how easily all this might blow up in his face because every inch also brought him closer to the monster with teeth like knives.

And yes, it was scary.

My mind churning with the reality of this moment and it was incredible. Trying to convince Klaus my tidbits of knowledge was foresight; I plucked at the first thing that came to mind. Details of how Cedric Diggory won this match. But it was much more than some little thing I plucked off the pages of a book I read once. Little black letters where my imagination filled in the scenes. All my senses were involved, sharpening the intensity of this place while also denying deniability. I _**couldn't**_ see this as a scene from a book.

The rough, splintery wood of the banister under my hands. The pinch of icy air on my cheeks, and the way my ears burned from the cold. My hair slowly stiffening as the strands froze. I could feel the heat radiating off Klaus' body. And I could smell him, right beside me. The leather from his jacket. Denim from his jeans, damp from melted snow. The heady perfume of herbs and flower petals from Professor McGonagall, tickling the inside of my nose each time the wind gusted; blowing the scent off her robes straight into my face.

My eyes swept the world around us, awed by the reality of this place. The towering, craggy peaks of the mountains. The way the wind pushed drifts of snow like smoke from the tops of those mountains, individual flakes sparkling as they landed on my bare hands. Flakes which held their shapes for only a moment before melting under the warmth from my skin.

I could see the faces of the people in the stadium. Not the blur of anonymous spectators I would imagine while reading, but actually faces.

I was in a real place. A real world.

I was _**here**_.

Like before, when talking to Dumbledore I suddenly remembered Giovanna – me – and the things she'd said. How she was an active participant in the worlds she visited. Talking to people. Learning things. Influencing things in her favor. She was on a mission. I still didn't understand what her point was, what she was after, only that she was very much in control of herself.

And therein lay my problem. The little tidbit I'd been too exhausted, too emotionally frayed to realize she was telling me. I was a foreign presence in a universe I was not supposed to be in. It was like time travel. Just by being there I altered the natural progression of that world . . .

. . . how much had Klaus and I already changed, without ever realizing the damage we were doing?

Cedric turning the stone into a dog just like the books said, showed the accuracy of those stories. Not everything would be the same, but too much was exactly like I expected for my prediction to be only coincidence. It gave me too much to think about now. But one thing was for sure, I couldn't rely on what I knew of this place because I was already changing things.

I wasn't in the books.

Here, Dumbledore was paying too much attention on what I was doing and not nearly enough on Harry Potter. Harry might die. Cedric, who survives this challenge, could be eaten in a moment of distraction that was never supposed to happen. Without Harry to find the scattered soul-pieces Voldemort's rise would be mostly unchallenged until far, far too late to stop him.

Oh, god.

I sank into my chair, lifting my shoulders to huddle in my coat.

Klaus glanced over and scowled. "What's wrong with you?"

Nothing. Nothing. We might have just destroyed the world . . . nothing at all was wrong.

I didn't bother responding to what was mostly a rhetorical question anyway. Cedric reached the edge of the trench, a nearly vertical wall of loose earth and stone. A small miracle he hadn't broken his neck falling from it.

He didn't start climbing, instead flattening himself against the side of the wall. This little spot of dirty yellow and gold. Hair falling into his face, into his eyes, he looked wearily up at the dragon perched on the edge of what amounted to a short cliff just over his head. Claws that'd torn open solid stone curling dangerously near.

The dragon was still watching the transfigured dog pawing and snuffling around in the trench, and might not have even noticed that its original target seemed to have disappeared. If a reptilian face could display human emotion, this one would be called fascination. It followed the dog's movements with rapt interest. Even the fire dribbling from between its teeth had ceased, so focused was the monster on this new addition.

Cedric's chest was heaving as he struggled to catch his breath.

The sulfurous gases, heavier than air, pooled in the lowest places and the trench was as low as it got. Every gasp drew more of that poison into his body and Cedric was really feeling it now. He held his wand in a fist, up against his chest. The knuckles on his hand were scraped raw and bloody.

Was this my fault? The difficulty, the way he struggled . . . was that because of me?

Gray eyes slid from what he could see of the dragon's head, the spiky chin, and found me. Unerringly it was as if he knew exactly where I was sitting, and with his back plastered to the wall Cedric was facing the faculty box. He didn't look at Klaus, or any of his teachers. His gaze met mine and for one heartbreakingly brief moment, I felt him reaching.

I wanted so desperately to help him. To stop this, but there was no pleading in Cedric's eyes. Just a quiet courage, asking for nothing from me. I put my hands to my mouth, not even really knowing what I meant to do and pressed my fingers to my lips: _shhhhh_.

The dragon swung its head around, licks of flame dancing in its wide nostrils. It was looking for him, now. Peering suspiciously around for the human who seemed to have disappeared. Smoke left its throat in a black gout that wafted around its head.

Cedric flicked his wand. A tremor of invisible energy.

The dog let loose a wild yowl and sprang away from them, long legs carrying it swiftly across the length of the trench. A dog built to run. Powerful, ground-eating strides.

Oh, the dragon saw _**that**_!

Like waving a feather under the nose of a cat, the sudden prey-motion of a fleeing animal was too much for the dragon to resist. It launched itself nearly straight up, wings snapping with renewed enthusiasm. Invigorated by this exciting new meat.

Cedric spun around and dug his hands into the crumbling wall, wedging his fingers in wherever he could and began to climb out of the trench. It was messy, nerve-wracking progress as the whole thing seemed to crumble beneath him – for every foot won, he slid back two. But he _**was**_ moving up.

In my head I was saying: _Go! Go! Go!_ – but not a sound escaped my throat. I was wound too tightly to make a noise. Klaus was angry with me, he didn't trust me, but I needed him. I needed his strength to bolster my own because I was so scared and the sense of sheer powerlessness was more than I could stand.

I took hold of his arm, slipping my hand in the crook of his elbow. Klaus stiffened, lean muscle coiling beneath the cool leather of his sleeve. Hybrid power turning his body from flesh to marble. He didn't pull away. I appreciated that.

Cedric pulled himself out of the trench, heaving his body up. Arms flexing under the strain of his own weight. The dragon howled, scaring the crap out of him. He twisted his neck around to look, unbalancing himself when he did and ended up collapsing onto his side. Wrenching his shoulder, bruising his elbow and scrabbling around to pick himself up.

The whole thing was so awkward and clumsy that if I hadn't already swallowed my tongue I might have laughed.

_**WH-OOMPH . . . CRACKPH!**_

The entire stadium shook! Kids fell, thrown down in heaps from the concussive force of the explosion which heaved. The floor under my feet seemed to buck and it was like a bomb had gone off underneath the stadium. Shrieks and confused screaming rose up from all around, and below Cedric dropped to his knees to keep balanced.

Hundreds of black-cloaks rustled as kids rushed to the edge of the stadium banister, leaning far over to see what was going on and point at the spectacle.

Chasing the dog with such wild abandon, driven into a frenzy by the sight of some small animal fleeing right under its nose the dragon – Cedric's nightmare beast – had slammed into the stadium wall. Crashed into the white stone so hard that its whole body folded into itself. How was this creature still _**alive**_?

The dog was gone. I don't know if it's because the spell wore away, or for some other reason but the skinny black wolfhound was gone and a cracked boulder in its place. Ironically the dragon fell right on it, sliding to the ground in a dazed heap of muscle and scaly skin.

It wasn't dead but the Swedish Short-Snout wasn't just brushing this off. It lay on the ground at the base of the stadium wall and allowed its body to sink into the pebbles. Cradling its body in tiny rocks.

Cedric tilted his chin, intelligent gray eyes sparkling in the pale light glowing through the clouds. He looked right at me, again fixing me with unerring accuracy. His smile, that uncomplicated warmth I'd so appreciated before cutting sharply across a bruised, tired face. Sinful and devilishly daring. My breath caught in my throat and Cedric winked.

He swept his wand around, shoulder rolling with the motion and issued a single command. One word. Power hissed on the air and the golden egg cradled at the top of a small rise of slick stone and broken pieces lifted off its perch.

It flew straight into Cedric's waiting hands, a brilliant golden bullet that he caught and held to his chest like a basketball in his arms.

A thousand voices rose in a roar of victory. Cloaks and wands lifted in tribute and excited chatter and it was incredible. The sound deafening, beating off the mountains to echo back magnified a hundredfold. It shook the peaks, as snow fell so heavily now that it was like it was actually snowing. Cold and wet in my hair and on my face, on the exposed skin of my hands. Flakes glistening on my jacket.

Cedric was done. His little smirk and that finale spell taking what was left of his strength, and he let himself fall down. Holding his egg, his prize, in a death grip. He lay on the ground, staring dizzily up at the sky and _**finally**_ people ran out to help him. The relief I felt that was over so acute I was a little dizzy too.

"That's it?" Klaus said.

I scowled at him. "That wasn't enough?"

"No," he said. "I mean all that for nothing."

I was inclined to agree. It seemed cruel without any real point, beyond moving onto the next challenge and I hated it. Hated Dumbledore especially for his damned apathy. I rose to my feet and watched the nurses lift Cedric onto a stretcher. They left the arena with him. Oh, god. Klaus grabbed my arm before I could slip away.

"Where're you going?"

"To check on him!" I said, more sharply than he deserved. Klaus' eyes narrowed into furious blue slits and I bristled, heart hammering. "Let go of me."

"You and I are going to talk, love," he said and hell if it didn't sound like a threat.

Yes, yes, I knew that. No idea what I would say to him, only that I couldn't avoid him forever and we had come to a point where he would demand answers. Who was I? How did I know the things I did, and why had I lied to him so spectacularly that the only way out, now, was to throw myself on his questionable mercy?

The proverbial rock and a hard place . . .

* * *

**WORD FROM DAYSTORM:** _I really don't mean to go so long between updates. :P_

_But surprise! We got presents. A ton of brand new fan art has been added to the "EoT" website from a number of people and much love to each of you! I so, so appreciate the generosity. As someone who plays with making edits, too, I know how much effort goes into even the simplest pieces._

_A new page was added to the site, located in the "Home" dropdown; made specifically because of something a friend made me. Thirty gorgeous combination-gifs . . . one for each of the chapters posted thus far, from my Prologue to Chapter 29._

_And a very __**RARE**__ addition . . . a fan video made for me, set to the song "Coming out Strong" by Ana Johnsson. (My unofficial _Edge of Tomorrow_ theme song) Beautiful video, I got shivers while watching it. Actual up-the-spine happy shivers. ^_^ Definitely worth a watch!_

_The url to my "Edge of Tomorrow" fansite is located on my Profile Page._

_Best,_

_Day_


	32. Chapter 31 - Knock, Knock

**_*It goes without saying that The Originals and every other film, book or franchise that will be mentioned in this fanfiction belong to their respectful owners. I claim no ownership or association to any of the many "universes" that will be visited in this fanfiction.*_**

**Chapter 31**

**Knock, Knock**

* * *

"Everythin' seems ter happen ter you, doesn' it?"

– **Hagrid**

_Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_

J.K. Rowling (author)

* * *

**KLAUS**

Klaus rose to follow after his flighty little bird, frustration burning at the back of his throat with a taste like hot steel. Blood without the sweetness, acrid on his tongue. Not angry, not yet, but near enough that he worried what would happen if he caught Amanda alone on the stretch of open ground between the back of the stadium and the tent where her friend was taken.

He didn't know what he would do.

It was almost a relief to feel someone take his arm, halting him before he could give chase. The flesh snowy-white against the black of his leathers, wrinkled and dotted with age. Surprisingly firm grip given the papery thinness of its owner. Dumbledore watched him with an unwavering intensity that worked to take the edge off Klaus' roiling emotions.

"She lies to you."

Klaus lifted a dangerous glower. "That's not news, mate."

"I suppose not, though I am tempted to wonder at the deception. What purpose do her untruths serve, other than to distance herself? She does not trust you."

An icy wind careened down from the mountains, tasting of snow and frostbitten sky. Crystal flakes wafted from the peak, glistening as they descended in a flurry like the flapping of birds' wings to his sensitive ears. Klaus pulled his arm from Dumbledore's hold and stood away, his smile twisting with such malice Amanda would have known Klaus was being pushed too far.

Dumbledore, unable to recognize the very real threat, dared to push even further. "The bond between friends is not so easily shaken, yet whatever love there might have been is most noticeably absent."

After an extended moment where the air fairly crackled with unspent energy, Klaus leaned far in to speak. Voice low and quivering with barely suppressed hostility, "I know when I'm being played a fool, _headmaster_, and whatever you think you know you had best keep to your own affairs."

The warning could not have been clearer.

"Sage advice," Dumbledore intoned. The headmaster could sense Klaus' passionate fury and he found himself intrigued by it. Distrust stained the relationship between the man and his companion, and what infuriated Klaus was in fact _**not**_ that Amanda refused to be cowed by him . . . no, not that at all.

Klaus _**wanted**_ to be trusted. Dumbledore suspected he wanted that very much. He wanted her to believe in him and she did not. For whatever reason, Amanda kept her secrets and it maddened him.

Dumbledore withheld a satisfied smile. He needed only an inch to drive a wedge, and there it was. The place where he might begin to distance the pair, bringing himself closer to the girl who owned the object he coveted. Her device thrummed with power unlike anything he had ever known. He had yet to see it with his own eyes.

Klaus curled his lip and made as if to turn away, but Dumbledore wasn't finished.

"She lies to you," he said again and folded cold hands into the sleeves of his robes. "Why, I wonder. What benefit does her deception offer, where the truth would not? What else does she keep secret?"

His reaction nearly imperceptible. A sway. Klaus shifted his weight and then moved for the stairs that would take him down. Following after his companion, seeds of doubt planted where there was a measure of friendship before. Dumbledore allowed him to go, satisfied that his words would ferment in the man's mind . . . churning over and over until he could think of nothing else.

**XxXxXx**

She moved fast for someone so small.

Amanda was already at the infirmary tent when Klaus arrived, sitting on the edge of a bed next to where Cedric lay; pale but awake. Magic-lit dimness and the pungent smell of dried herbs and ointments greeted him inside. It was warmer here, the walls of the tent straining from the force of the winter wind but not a whisper broke through. They were contained.

Klaus moved to stand behind Amanda, with only the width of the bed separating them. Deliberately near. Not saying a word, not t touching her. A ghost in her shadow. She didn't respond to his nearness, beyond a sudden tension straightening her shoulders. He was out of her sight and she didn't like that. Aware of his volatility in a way Dumbledore was not. She knew enough not to draw attention to the sudden change in their dynamic, and if Klaus' questionable presence was meant to frighten her – it succeeded only in hardening her against him.

"Insane is what it was," she was saying, continuing as if there was no interruption.

Cedric offered a watery smile. "I did volunteer."

"Did you _**voluntarily**_ volunteer?"

Something pinched in Cedric's chest as he made to respond, strangling him on his own voice. The boy coughed harshly, forcing air up through a throat stripped raw from the sulfuric gases of the arena. The inside of his nose burned away, crimson flecks speckled on his lips. His chin. And there was already a bright patch flaking red on the end of his nose.

Amanda lay her hand on the curve of his back, comforting Cedric while also providing a weight he might use to brace himself. It was such a small yet considerate gesture; a familial touch. Klaus' jaw actually ached with the effort it took to keep his fangs sheathed.

Blatant jealousy.

The emotion so powerful that he didn't even bother to pretend he didn't know what it was. Sheer, unwarranted jealousy. He made a noise – a decidedly wolfish roll that came up from his chest. Amanda heard him and turned her head. Klaus met her question impassively, keeping his expression flat though his eyes smoldered. She frowned, a crease appearing in the skin between her eyes. Wondering what could possibly have upset him now.

_She lies to you . . ._

Cedric gasped, a dry rasp rattling in his lungs. Gray eyes clouded with pain lifted to hers and he managed a wheezy, "I think . . . I'm starting to regret . . . my decision."

Amanda wrapped one arm over his shoulders, hugging his body sideways and laughed a little. "Too late for that now."

She liked him. Already a friendship growing where she should have known better.

His courage in the arena impressed her, doing nothing to dampen her initial appreciation. Klaus gritted his teeth. She was setting herself up for pain and the joke is that she knew it. Was he worth it? This human with the magic wand, would he be worth missing later? That might have been the point. To have someone she can care for, who would be worth hurting over. Someone who was like her. Human.

A week ago . . . less? It was hard to tell but a short while ago, Klaus was caught in the Black Cube's trap. Drawn unwillingly into this alongside a slip of a human girl. The Cube's power closed around him, an immeasurable weight crushing his body. Stretching and twisting him so that he fit through the opening between universes. Not a door from one world to another, it was more like a crack in a wall.

Terrifying. Confusing; he hadn't known what was being done to him, only that he couldn't stop it from happening. A maddening hatred of his own powerlessness. The moment they crossed over that first time, together in a new place, there was no going back.

He'd snatched Amanda right off her feet and pinned her to the ceiling of the empty room.

He held her there, his whole body in pain from wanting to tear into her throat. To plunge aching fangs into tender flesh, like the skin of a peach. Only a thin layer of skin to keep him from the life pulsing at her throat. Hot blood. So near he could taste that sweetness on his tongue. Imagine the thrill of power that would swell every cell in his body with something like sunlight. He would gorge himself on her life until there was nothing left to take.

He remembered, too, his hesitation. The vampire in him roaring for release. The soft brush of Amanda's hair, golden and light against the pale skin of his hand clamped around her throat. Desperate fear swinging just this side of terror flashing in eyes that'd been turquoise that day. Changeable eyes he would later learn were sometimes blue, sometimes gray and every color between. Her unique scent clogging his throat; heady sweet spice.

Every part of him had wanted to kill her. To taste her blood which he knew would be as exquisite as the scent wafting off her skin. He spared her through sheer fascination. What was this creature, who did what a thousand years of tolerance had not? She soothed the fury that sizzled through his body.

She was afraid of him, distrust poisoning their already uneasy peace. But then there were those times where she seemed to understand him perfectly. A kindred spirit, or a master manipulator? She knew what to say to bend him to her will. _I don't want to be alone. You're all I've got!_

_She lies to you . . ._

Klaus closed his eyes struggling to find the quiet he needed to focus and it occurred to him where it had not before; he was notoriously difficult to control, but she would have found it harder to manage Elijah.

Not for the first time, he wondered if the accident that landed him with Amanda might not have been a deliberate choice. Dumbledore was right. She was alone and in desperate need of a protector. She found herself an Original.

Amanda was brilliantly unassuming.

She stayed with him no matter what, giving him what he wanted – a companion who would not leave – and later enforcing the idea of permanence by asking him not to abandon _**her**_. _You're all I've got_! Alone in a blizzard, in the dark and freezing cold. She'd known the perfect moment to drop that plea on ears that were ready to listen.

His little mortal bird was a practiced liar . . .

* * *

**AMANDA**

It was a long walk from the stadium back to the castle. Not so far, just that it was cold. The wind cut through my jacket as if it wasn't even there and I crossed my arms to huddle down into my shoulders. It'd be warmer inside the school.

Klaus followed me, keeping some distance between us. Fifty yards. More? Far enough so that the details began to blur and I would periodically look back, peeking through my hair to watch him. He never got any closer. The wolf imagery was painfully overdone when it came to him, but I couldn't help the visual. It was too perfect.

This lean, dark form loping easily through the snow. The tireless, ground-eating stride of the predatory animal, undaunted by famine or long winter. Steadily keeping up without ever seeming to close.

One lonely black wolf, following forlornly in my wake.

Did Klaus have any idea how much wolf there was in him? Would he care?

Boredom drove the majority of the things Klaus did. He seemed so quiet now but I was not feeling secure enough to relax. I knew he was waiting . . . waiting . . . patient now because he'd found a release for that omnipresent tedium. There was never any real reason not to tell him where I was getting my information.

In the beginning, my excuse was fairly straightforward; it hadn't occur to me. I didn't know I had anything that needed confessing.

Later, there was no time. And after that? I was afraid of what he would do, if I told him.

It seemed that I _**had**_ reasons, valid ones, but none that carried over to the now. It made me feel careless. I dug my own hole, this could have been avoided.

_**Crunch-crunch-crunch . . .**_

My boots met the crusted brick path leading up to the Hogwarts. A layer of snow beaten smooth, icing a brittle layer on top with something hard as concrete beneath. The castle towered, dark and heavy stone. Hogwarts was built to make anyone who dared approach acutely aware of their smallness, of how little influence they would have on the ageless behemoth. A medieval castle that never moved away from the dark ages.

I shivered, pulling my coat more snugly around myself and craned my neck to look up. My eyes racing the sharp lines and flat-faced towers so tall the very tops would catch drifting swaths of cloud. A white owl cut powerfully through the mist, noiseless as a ghost passing over. Angel wings dappled with black currents. It was lovely and scary and all very real; I was in a place that could not possibly exist but it did.

I drew a breath for courage, and pushed through the doors into the school.

* * *

_**KLAUS**_

Girl knew she couldn't evade him forever, and so she retreated to the only place she could; the Infirmary where they were staying. Klaus could appreciate her decision, chosen with far more care than it might seem. There was no one to get in his way. No one to interfere. She would become the focus of his interrogation with no one there to distract his attention. It reinforced Klaus' original impression of her.

She had a survivor's subtle brilliance; the ability to quickly assess her situation and respond accurately. Or in simpler terms – _she made good decisions_.

Amanda was waiting for him when he came in. The Infirmary a sea of white beds aligned in twin lines on either side of the cavernous room, with the arched ceiling rising so far over the floor it created the illusion of vastness. Unnecessary space given the sheer size of the hall. Amanda the only living thing here, a spot of pale warmth sitting cross-legged on her borrowed bed at the far back.

Klaus approached slowly. Aware of the menace in his lazy gate, milking the moment even as he took her measure. Amanda was barefoot, with her jacket and satchel both hung off the hook where they kept their things while they slept. A line of damp stuck her sweater to the centre of her back.

Blonde hair falling over her shoulders, it curled slightly at the ends while loose ribbons fell into her face. Partially obscuring eyes that were gray now, with nearly no evidence of blue remaining.

She was like a ghost.

Fire burned away leaving only pale ash, yet still radiant in the bright winter sunshine beaming through hundreds of icy window. The effect was one of peculiar beauty. A stillness that enveloped the space she was in, while the heady perfume of her skin filled his head with precious silence. Both halves of his nature hushed, now, awed by this creature none of them understood.

Klaus held his breath, shutting her out and felt the stirring of discontent like a fist in his chest.

Amanda caught her bottom lip in her teeth, gnawing gently on the soft flesh. Head bowed, gaze averted. She spoke first, "I never meant for this to come as far as it did. I think maybe it was just easier to say nothing."

From Klaus; hard, quick accusation, "Who are you?"

"Who do you think I am?"

_She lies to you . . ._

_. . . you're all I've got!_

His practiced liar. Klaus dared to breathe through his nose, drawing her scent into his body. Apprehension seeping through her pores with a smell like rotten orange. Amanda curled her fingers into loose fists, her hands down on her lap. The only outward sign of this inner conflict. She was keeping herself carefully contained.

She drew a careful breath and let it out with deliberate slowness.

"All of what I told you was true." Gray eyes turned up, briefly. "But not everything that should have been said was given the chance to – look, it was a mistake. Not a focused and deliberate deception. Klaus, I never meant to lie to you and the only thing I ever said that wasn't true is, um –"

"You're not _clairvoyant_," he supplied, emphasizing the word with some mocking. As if that hadn't already been established. It was odd how Klaus could feel the blood in his eyes, throbbing through veins that hadn't yet begun to swell. Rather than bloody-crimson his eyes would burn wolf-gold. Klaus clung to his stoicism as surely as his human companion.

His one, his _**only**_ constant.

His necessity because without her he would be alone.

She knew that. She understood the significance because she lived with that certainty alongside him. What was different? Very little. By every stretch of the imagination they were in this together; his hybrid power tipping the scales while her knowledge to support where that was not enough. And again suspicion threaded through him . . . it was too convenient.

Klaus moved; a blur of vampire speed and wrenched Amanda's leather satchel off the hook. Amanda yelled, surprised by this and came off the bed. He felt the soft thump of fists on his back – "Give me that!"

No. He tugged the Black Cube from her bag and sparkling winter light radiated all around. Dancing off the object as if drawn to the Cube and yet none of that light would penetrate. Black on black. Darker than those empty places between the stars. Void in the hands of a monster, Klaus held the Cube up as the prize that it was.

"What is this?" he demanded, shoving Amanda off his back where she clung like a little squirrel. She let herself drop back down, glowering. "Tell me what this is."

"Beats me," she said. "Why would you ask me _**that**_?"

"You appear from nowhere," Klaus said, fury riding him. _She lies to you . . . she lies . . ._ "You needed protection, your knowledge already enough to carry you. Your double has already proven herself a master manipulator –"

"– Giovanna?"

"– and you, my precious little bird . . . what do you want? Was I chosen or were you fortunate enough to find what you sought there on the road?"

Amanda was aghast. Her eyes lit silver fire in the pale sunlight shining straight in her face. "You think I _**picked**_ you? That's why you're pissed off? You think I was there to get you? I never lied about that, that was an accident. I never meant to pull you in with me; didn't even know I could until it happened!"

His fingers tightened around the Cube. Through clenched teeth: "What – is – this?"

"It's an outer-dimensional device, capable of slipping through the barrier dividing an endless series of alternate universes. Like I told you before. I don't know what it's made of. I don't know where it comes from and yeah, I wish I never laid hands on it."

Silence following her words. Klaus listened to the hammering in her chest. Years of experience whispering in his ear. His bloodlust responding to his own heightened emotions, the conflict in him. He was thirsty. She was telling him the truth . . .

"You told me the Box was handed to you," Klaus probed.

"Yes. By my brother."

Klaus sneered and Amanda bristled. "Another _**accident**_? Your coincidences have a tendency to fall in your favor, love."

It was a taunt. He was calling her out and Amanda was smart enough to keep her mouth shut, swallowing the desire to rush and defend herself. The position she was trying to hold. He saw the tick in her jaw, the flush of blood in her cheeks. She was mad. Furious with him. With herself. Frustrated because he wouldn't give her room to wiggle out of the corner she backed into.

"You think _**this**_ falls in my favor?" she said tersely, her scent growing tarter in his nostrils. "I'm lost in the fricken' cosmos. How is this favorable?"

She reached for the Cube. Klaus held it up, out of her reach.

"You there were lies," he said.

"No!" Amanda retorted. "I mean . . . no! There were no lies and I won't let you turn it so that there was. There were things I never told you but nothing where I outright _**lied**_ to you."

"So you _**can**_ see the future?"

"Except for that." She bit her lip again and winced, the soft flesh tender now. Her gaze swept quickly down, then to the side before returning to his face. "Actually."

Klaus' eyes narrowed dangerously.

She rubbed her arms, smoothing down the prickling. "It's not what you think. I k-know things, can predict what's coming but I don't see it exactly. I'm not psychic. It's not . . . a power. I wasn't lying when I led you down to the Chamber of Secrets. I knew it was there. Blind luck I even found it. The books were never that specific, I only had a general idea that it was under the school. I know things but only sometimes and even then, it depends on how much I remember. How detailed my sources were . . ."

She gritted her teeth, the barest hint of moisture pooling in eyes that were at once tired and hot. A creature pushed beyond enduring, but one who had not yet succumbed to her own limitations. This fire still smoldered, needing only a breath to spark those embers into a conflagration. Daring anyone to push, push just a little more.

Klaus dared. "What book?"

She didn't even blink; that hadn't been a mistake.

She meant to let that slip.

"This!" Amanda lifted her hands, finger splayed. "It's this place! This castle, these people, this whole world! Where I come from, Klaus, in my universe? None of this is _**real**_ –" she let her arms drop "– but it is. As ridiculous as that sounds, I read this world in a book once."

Ridiculous? What a preposterous ideal given what they'd already experienced but Klaus said nothing. She was talking now, the floodgates forced open. Amanda was ready to explain and Klaus knew that now the time to listen. That she would give more than she meant to.

Amanda blew out a defeated breath and shook her head. "I get how it looks; my Cube and then I found you, and we went off together and I don't know how to get us back . . . I'm not some little idiot without a clue, but I'm not an evil mastermind either. I never set you up. I never meant for any of this – this _**mess**_ . . ."

She turned her face up, unashamedly showing him the tears glistening in her eyes. Moisture spiking her lashes. A single roll escaped, sliding smoothly over the swell of her cheek, down by the hollow of her nose where it was caught on her upper lip. Liquid finding the easiest path.

"You're right, you know. This would be harder if I were alone."

Klaus lowered his arm, bringing the Black Cube down to where she could reach it but did not hand the device over to her. He kept it, holding it loosely by his side. Amanda made no move to retrieve it.

"Finish what you were saying," Klaus said, very quietly.

Amanda cleared her throat and wiped at her tears. "I recognized the Predators' universe the same way. I didn't know it right away but then I saw their totems and everything just sort of fell into place. I knew what was out there. They were movies I'd seen. Just . . . just films. Nobody believes any of that is real, people watch it knowing its not. I thought it was . . . I don't know what I thought. I mean I so scared because I know what those aliens were – the Predators – knew what they were capable of. There was no time to consider what it meant that that nightmare story was real. I was there. Deal with it."

Klaus' fingers tightened around the Cube. Power thrummed from that block of nothingness, hissing into his body like an electrical current. Gently. Not meant to harm him, only the unintentional pulse of a machine that was on.

He said, "Infinite number of universes. Infinite number of possibilities."

Amanda smiled tentatively. "Yeah. That's it exactly. Every idea, every thought, every conceivable outcome for every moment a reality somewhere."

Klaus sighed and raked the fingers of one hand through his hair, feeling the tug on his scalp. He was hot now, inside the heated castle with his jacket on. The wind rattled at the windows over their heads and to his sensitive ears, the crackling of frost caught between the warm interior and the freezing cold weather outside. Melting just enough to freeze again; a continuous cycle as both worlds vied for dominance.

Amanda's scent wafted enticingly off her skin, emotions slowly easing from temper and a careful fear of him, allowing the natural flavors of her scent to push through. Sweet cinnamon and a sharp black pepper, with that third layer dancing evasively just out of his reach. He couldn't name it but it was something luscious. She drew him even, and Klaus pressed harder. Just like the ice in the windows he struggled against forces that would pull him one way or another.

"I never told you I could not be killed."

Amanda started. "What?"

"I never said what I was," Klaus said, turning to face her again. He moved closer, crowding her and Amanda retreated. "You knew. I was killed and you stayed with me, waiting for the Hybrid monster to revive. Too frightened to face the jungle alone, you knew to wait for me."

Silence.

Not a whisper escaped Amanda's tightly pressed lips, but he could see the tremor. The little flicker in suddenly dry eyes and he realized; it hadn't occurred to her that she shouldn't have known that. It was a mistake – but one she didn't know she'd made.

"You know me."

Amanda faced him squarely. She didn't deny it, couldn't say a word in her own defense.

"Yeah. Yeah, I know who you are."


	33. Chapter 32 - Magical Cooperation

**_*It goes without saying that The Originals and every other film, book or franchise that will be mentioned in this fanfiction belong to their respectful owners. I claim no ownership or association to any of the many "universes" that will be visited in this fanfiction.*_**

**Chapter 32**

**Magical Cooperation**

* * *

". . . the whole point of the tournament is international magical cooperation. To make friends!"

– **Hermione Granger**

_Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_

J.K. Rowling (author)

* * *

**KLAUS**

The filtered green light of an alien jungle.

Humidity so thick it might have been steam, Klaus could scarcely breathe over the reek of air so heavily laden with scents they were like perfume sprayed in his face. The smells would catch in his throat, burning in his nostrils. The trees closed around him, crowding too close. Branches of green over his head. Wide, tangled trunks packed into a wall of foliage. Nowhere to look. Nowhere to turn away.

Overwhelmed. It was claustrophobic and nobody seemed to feel it as acutely as Klaus; his head reeling from the cacophony of signals bombarding his senses.

It was only his second world. The first, an empty room. The second a jungle so different from what he'd seen before he hadn't needed to be told to know this was an alien planet. He survived the Amazon, haunted the Congo – a deadly shadow – and secluded himself for years in the Tibetan highlands. This place was like none of those.

It was impossible for him to stay with the humans. It was the whooshing of air in their lungs. The wet rush of blood in veins. Their voices. The scents of their bodies, of their sweat filling his head. Maddening. So he left them – and her – to fend for themselves.

No idea that _**he**_ was being hunted. The Hybrid monster with power to shame a demon, prey to another's hunger.

Klaus hadn't heard the high, sharp whistle of a harpoon cutting straight toward him.

He should have, but everything was so confused. He couldn't pull the noises apart to focus his too-sensitive hearing. He _**did**_ feel the impact lift him off his feet; the alien metal punch straight through bone and muscle so cleanly that it was painless.

Klaus had known he was mortally wounded. Knew, too, that he was stuck several feet off the ground, pinned to a tree like a bug to a corkboard. The last thing he saw before succumbing to the darkness of death was a mirror-like shine. The shimmer of an invisible body moving out from the swirl of green.

He died – briefly. Opened his eyes to find Amanda climbed up next to him, her hands slicked with his blood from where she attempted to pull the harpoon from his body. She tried to get him down . . .

She was not surprised that he was alive. She never questioned him. Did not even flinch when he lit his eyes for the first time, Hybrid gold firing straight through their natural blue. The swell of veins under his skin. Fangs. A single backhand decapitating a seven-foot alien beast . . . he was strong. Brutally fast.

She knew what he was from the very beginning.

She knew . . .

"You know me," he said to her now, alone in another world. Another place where the air fairly breathed with magic and she, barefoot and so small beside him. Tired. Just tired with nowhere left to go, silver eyes glinting with quiet courage.

Amanda faced him squarely. She didn't deny it, couldn't say a word in her own defense.

"Yeah. Yeah, I know who you are."

"From a book?"

It was a taunt but hell if he could scarcely force the words through his teeth. Amanda's heartbeat rapped steadily in his head, and he was listening now. Listening for that telltale skip that would betray her.

"No." She hesitated. A shadow moved through her eyes, a flicker like ripples on a clear pool before it was gone. "Well, yes. In a sense, I know you best from the show. You look . . . _**exactly**_ like the actor." She said the last on a breathless little gasp. Unintentionally playing her emotions forward. "I recognized you there, at the parade in New Orleans where we met. I didn't understand at first, wasn't expecting to stumble into familiar faces. I know I froze."

Klaus cut a dangerous smile.

"You confused me," Amanda admitted. A curl of wheat-gold hair fell into her face, doing nothing to hide her expression from Klaus' probing gaze. "I saw you and everything locked up. Like my brain stalled, I didn't understand what I was seeing. I don't know what I believed then."

"You were afraid of me," Klaus drawled, drawing it out like hot, buttery taffy. Menace dripping off each syllable.

Amanda trembled, a nearly imperceptible roll that shivered over her skin. Klaus pressed nearer, forcing her to flatten against the wall just to keep from touching him. His nearness worried her, and it amused him to play off that. A savage joy heating his blood. Let her fear him. Let her wonder what he meant to do. How well did she know him, truly?

Amanda pressed her hands into his stomach, his abs flexing at the contact. She shoved him. "Back up."

Her scent sharpened when he didn't move. Amanda threw her shoulder into it, squirming to get out from between him and the wall.

"Klaus, back up."

He slid away, turning from her completely. Amanda breathed easier. He thought it interesting that she could demonstrate such courage with him, while her panic soared when forced to dance with someone else. Anybody else. She had such skill. Dumbledore had her coming apart at the seams, though you wouldn't know it to look at her face.

_She lies . . ._

_. . . she lies to you._

She lies to everyone.

"Tell me his name."

Amanda. "Who?"

"Me," he said. "The _**actor**_ who likes to think he knows what it means to be the Hybrid."

He couldn't keep the contempt from spilling into his voice. A dark anger burning around his heart, that anyone would think to play him. To play at being him. They couldn't. A thousand years of pain and loneliness, rivers of blood to sate an appetite that can never be sated. A life of hatred and rage without end, forever at war with the twin halves of his nature; each willing to tear him apart from the inside in their ceaseless bid for dominance.

The sheer insult of knowing some mortal man, wearing his face, thought to pretend knew anything soured in his stomach and set his blood to molten metal. Rage coursed through his body.

"His name," Klaus pressed, a current of steel in his voice.

Amanda stumbled on the answer, "I – I . . . uh."

Klaus turned and his eyes burned hotter than the sun. Blood swelled the veins around his eyes but it was the color that froze Amanda. Air catching in her throat at the brilliant amber shine. Brown and gold glowing as if lit from behind it made his eyes look like crystal. Like gems dug straight from the earth, the penetrating rays of the sun passing through transparent stone.

She swallowed hard, moistening a throat gone suddenly dry. "I don't know. Klaus I . . . I can't remember. I don't know."

"Then what do you?" he demanded, lip curling. "What good are you?"

"Not much," she admitted. "I told you, I can predict what's coming but not all the time and it's for that exact reason. Whatever I know depends on what I can remember from a book I read when I was thirteen and I _**didn't know**_ there'd be a damn quiz!"

She was angry. Frustration and a prevailing sense of powerlessness quickly working her into a froth. He could see it in the way her breaths sawed in her throat, the tightness of her jaw. The accelerated beat of her heart.

"Books and movies are so vague and I never realized just how little they give you. They're snapshots. So much _**isn't**_ shown. Only referenced. Even if I had the book in my hands I don't think it'd be worth much. All this would be easier if I had no idea at all. At least then I could play it by ear. I could rely on you more. But it's like some great cosmic joke! I know just enough to make me doubt all of it. Am I right? Will it play out different; this is a world, not a chapter, and its playing out the way it wants."

She was panting, exhausted by her own passions. Klaus hesitated to speak, and in the silence she continued, "About you, though? I know some. Not nearly enough."

"Not nearly enough," Klaus echoed.

And unlike Dumbledore before her; Amanda knew to be leery of his deceptively neutral tone. She sat down on the bed, his bed, and let her eyes travel to the Cube Klaus still held in his hand. The surface smooth and cool against his skin. His fingers tightened on the sides, Hybrid strength pressing into the box without denting the material. What it was made of was a mystery.

"Tell me more about you," he said.

She hadn't expected that. Amanda's eyes slid to his face, a flicker of uncertainty dancing on her expression. "What do you want to know?"

"Who are you?"

She sighed. "We've been through this. I guess the real question is; who do you think I am?"

Klaus lowered himself onto the bed across from her, and set the Cube down on the floor between them. A solid block of void-black on hospital white tile. It looked like a hole in space. As if there should have been a vacuum, sucking everything violently inward.

His eyes were drawn to that square of nothing. So were hers and they sat a moment, both unnerved by the presence of something so wholly outside their realm of understanding. Klaus' scalp prickled with awareness, in the presence of something so much greater than him. Here was a power.

"Can't change what's done," Amanda said heavily, recognizing a terrible decision. "The Box came to me and whether it was accident or design, it's mine now."

"You believe you can find your way home?" Klaus asked, derisively.

She took a breath, releasing it on a sigh. "No. I hope . . . but no."

Neither did he but to hear the denial spoken out loud was to focus a thought he hadn't dared to look too closely. A needle of pain pierced Klaus' chest. A fist around his heart. He was caught here and his chances of finding his way back were no better than hers. His family. His bloodthirsty, monstrous, beloved family was robbed from him. He could kill Amanda for this, rip her throat out, but the sight of her sitting dejectedly on the crisp white sheets of a hospital bed, sad and so alone there, he knew he wouldn't.

They were in this together.

"I'm sorry you're here," Amanda added, sweeping her hair back with a careless brush of her hand. She tried a crooked smile. "But I'm glad you are. To be alone is –"

"– a terrible thing," he finished for her, and returned her smile with one of his own. Just as crooked with a hint of the devil pushing through. An impish twist to the curl of his lips.

* * *

**AMANDA**

Hogwarts did nothing by halves. Supper was a feast in the great hall.

A heaving mass of students plowing through food like linebackers at training camp.

The faculty up at their esteemed table, eating from golden platters and jewel-crusted goblets. The noise was deafening. A thousand voices competing, the scrape of forks and knives on plates, the creak of wooden benches under the weight of so many butts. It was fun and festive and everyone was in the mood to celebrate the successful completion of the first Triwizard challenge.

Klaus and I were moved from our lonely little table beside Gryffindor up to the raised dais where the teachers had their meals. It was a great spot; we could see clear across the hall. My plate was solid gold and I know that because it was heavy. The metal a little soft under my fork. My chair was padded with crimson cushions. Nothing like Dumbledore's sparkling throne but still so pretty. So comfortable.

My goblet filled with pumpkin juice.

But the food! Oh my gawd. Slices of lightly seasoned roast, new potatoes, carrot puree, and honeyed chestnuts, pickled beets the color of blood, picked . . . something else. A cheesy roll that was gooey in the centre. My plate packed with enough food to feed two of me, and I only picked from the dishes I could reach from my seat. There were more. More platters all down the length of the high table.

The famous Hogwarts ceiling was easier to see now that it was dark. A crisp white moon and swaths of indigo clouds. Shooting stars zinged overhead. It was all so magical and wonderful. It made me very happy.

Klaus' mood was much improved.

There was an easy satisfaction in the way he held himself now, as if some weight was lifted off him. Had my deceptions really been so awful, pricking at his nerves so that it dragged at him? I hadn't meant that. I never wanted to divide us but there were so many things I felt I couldn't share. The dangerous, mischievous twist to his mouth warned that this wasn't over; we still weren't friends. Our truce was back and that would have to be enough.

Klaus' plate looked a lot like mine.

A mountain of food. He was packing it in with only slightly less enthusiasm than me. It made me wonder; blood nourished him. Blood kept him strong, alert. Healthy. What did food do? Could he draw nourishment from those potatoes and gravy? Did it digest the same way in his body than in mine? Did it matter and why did I care? I didn't really. A fascination.

His fork flashed brilliant silver in the lamplight. Warm gold on his pale skin, darker on the long sleeve of his sweater up to a neck and strong jaw. He was lean but it was a muscled leanness. Hard, toned body. Sharp, laughing blue eyes that did nothing to mask the savage cunning of a mind that worked faster than any human. I looked away.

My eyes passed over the great hall and landed unerringly on Harry Potter. They were further up the length of the Gryffindor table, nearer to the intricately carved doors than the dais. Nothing in particular seemed to stand out; he was just another fourteen-year-old in red and gold eating his dinner with his friends. Hermione beside him, bushy brown hair sticking wildly out of her head. Weightless strands drifting around a narrow face with big brown eyes that twinkled excitedly.

I searched for Ron, for this shock of orange hair but he wasn't there. My eyes moved up the table, picking out his brothers. His younger sister huddled with her own group of friends. She was shooting covert glances in Harry's direction but I found it odd that Ron was nowhere. The books implied that those three were inseparable. It was always Harry, Ron and Hermione.

I kept eating, cutting off a piece of the roast on my plate and popping it in my mouth. Only just managed to keep from embarrassing myself by moaning with gluttonous delight. It was delicious, seasoned exactly right to enhance the flavor of the meat. The beef seemed to melt in my mouth. I was hungry. My body aching with need after too long with not enough to eat.

It wasn't all indulgence.

Klaus said I had a survivalist's instinct. May or may not be true, but I knew that I needed to fuel up while I had the chance. So I would eat as much as I could and if I enjoyed myself in the meantime well . . . no rule saying I couldn't. The cheesy roll was just divine. A long string of gooey cheesy goodness stretched and stretched when I bit into it, like in those pizza commercials.

I pulled the cheese off my chin and popped it in my mouth, grinning unashamedly at Klaus' arched brow.

Faster than I can blink, he plucked the roll out of my hand and took a bite. The puffy white pastry flaked and pulled apart between his teeth.

"Hey!" I grabbed for it. "Get your own!"

Not like there wasn't a mountain of them heaped on a plate _**right in front**_ of him!

Rather than return what he took, Klaus chewed with deliberate slowness. Taunting me with that salty, cheesy, warm . . . I wanted my roll back. He picked a new roll off the heap and plopped it right in my carrot puree.

"Enjoy it while you can."

I bristled. "What do you think I'm doing? That was mine."

He grabbed a second roll and dropped it on top of the first.

"Oh, that makes it better."

He laughed. "Don't pout. Your true love's looking at you."

My gaze shot to the Hufflepuff table. Later I would . . . avoid questioning . . . how I knew exactly who Klaus meant by _'true love'_ but right then I felt my heart give a happy little jump.

Okay, Cedric was _**not**_ looking at me and Klaus laughed in my ear, but that was good. Meant I could watch him without worrying he'd catch me doing it. Cedric looked loads better than he had just that afternoon. Bathed and dressed in clean clothes. No evidence of blood caking his hair or hands. He reached for an ice cream scooper and I noticed his skin pink and firm. Undamaged from the boiling heat of the fissure in the arena.

I remembered him sticking his whole arm down into that crack in the earth, searching for his precious wand. Remembered the tears and pain contorting his face. The lobster-red coloring of his skin afterwards, large white bubbles filling with fluid. He'd been boiled.

No evidence of that terrible injury remained.

Magic was amazing.

In my world he would have been in fairly poor condition for a long while. The risk of infection, of dead skin needing to be removed. Maybe new skin grafted on. But that arm would never have been smooth again, the steam leaving him disfigured.

Magic-medicine was a blasted miracle.

He looked good, too. Lacking Klaus' predatory allure, his was a more open and friendly magnetism. Stereotypically handsome, athletic and smart enough to be in advanced classes. A real catch. I smiled and let my hair fall forward, picking at my food.

I felt eyes on me. Very suddenly. Warmth heating my cheeks. Nerves tingling a warning that jangled in my head. I lifted my gaze, scanning the large hall. Not Cedric. The bleached-blond head of a boy at Slytherin was turned in my direction but he wasn't looking at me. Eyes narrowed in scathing distaste seemed focused on the great bear of a man seated next to McGonagall – Hagrid. I still couldn't find Ron in the heaving mass of bodies packed into four long tables spanning the length of the hall.

Klaus added another cheese roll to the growing pile on my plate, but it wasn't his attention I felt burning a hole into the side of my head.

Dumbledore. The wise old headmaster was looking right at me – eyes the same glowing blue as the base of a candle flame. I felt a shock of surprise clench in my belly. He smiled and it was friendly, lips peeking through those long white whiskers. Skin crinkling at the corners of his eyes. I returned his smile, familiar with this game. Comfortable with it. Didn't like Dumbledore but I was his guest. I was eating his food. Sharing his table. It would be terribly impolite to show how little I trusted him.

Or to give any indication I was aware we were prisoners.

Prisoners free to move about the school, but he had no intentions of letting us leave. That made us captives. It's also why Klaus was now the sole owner of the Cube; he could protect it. Pity the fool who tried to steal it from the Original Hybrid. These people had no idea what he was. I was counting on it.

"I think your true love's leaving," Klaus remarked, this time truthfully.

I felt another little jolt. His voice startling me.

"So?"

"So, you should go after him," Klaus said.

Cedric was getting up from the Hufflepuff table. He laughed at something the boy next to him was saying, candlelight catching in his gray eyes. His black robes fluttered around him as he lifted off the bench, careful not to kick the people on either side of him.

"You chase after him. I'm eating." I stuck my fork in one of the many cheesy rolls Klaus had plopped on my plate while I wasn't looking.

He covered my hand with him, slid my fork from my fingers. "Amanda, go see what he's doing."

Like hell. I wanted to argue with him but something in the way Klaus' eyes bored into mine stopped me. Soberly. He meant something he didn't dare say out loud. _Go, Amanda. Get out of here._

. . . okay.

If you want someone to trust you, sometimes you need to trust them first.

I got up from the table and Dumbledore took a drink from his goblet.

* * *

**KLAUS**

Klaus watched Amanda leave him, her steps quick but unhurried as she strode down the great hall. She was discrete, drawing very little attention to herself. She left her satchel and their precious Cube in his care, safely tucked under his chair and the faith she had in him was necessary. A little naïve. The girl was no fool, only young and alone.

Dumbledore drank from his goblet and the heady scent of fermented grapes filled Klaus' head. The wine was strong. Stronger than he would have thought the man able to withstand at his age. Poor headmaster was an old man.

Klaus snickered.

Yes, very old.

He sobered. Old but not feeble and the man's mind was still clear. It was why he sent Amanda away. Dumbledore's attentions were starting to grate on Klaus' nerves and where the headmaster had years of experience from which to draw, the Hybrid had centuries. Show the wizard what he wanted to see. Discontent. Conflict. Division. The look on Amanda's face the moment she realized Klaus wasn't joking, he really wanted her to follow after her friend was perfect.

He saw understanding. Dumbledore would have read displeasure in the narrowing of her eyes, her mouth pressed into a tight, thin line.

Amanda slipped out of the great hall, unseen by most. The headmaster watched her over the lip of his goblet, holding the cup to his lips until she was out of his sight. His focus moved to Klaus, the power in those flinty blue eyes tingling magic. Klaus smiled, allowing a hard amusement to play over his expression.

You don't manipulate a master manipulator.

Klaus could play this game. Klaus would _**win**_ this game.

* * *

**AMANDA**

The absolute disaster of the incredible moving staircase.

I was on a step, holding onto the banister for dear life as the whole thing swung totally around with a stony grinding that reverberated through my skeleton. My whole body vibrated. My hands went cold from how hard I held on because I felt like I was going to fly off the stairs if I didn't.

Cedric was only a flight above, arms crossed on the banister of his totally separate stair from mine. Motionless – for now. He seemed to find this whole thing incredibly funny while waiting for the stairs to re-arrange. Waiting for me to come join him. How had he gotten so far ahead? It was his school. Years of running this gauntlet gave him a bit of an advantage.

Finally the thing ground to a halt, sliding into its new position.

"Aw, hell," I moaned.

A portrait of a very old lady in robes lifted knotted fingers up to her mouth, hiding a little smile. Well at least Cedric wasn't the only one finding this funny. I said nothing to the painting and quickly climbed up the few steps to the landing. As far as I could tell, those didn't move.

Nearly had a heart attack when the stairs suddenly changed position. I wasn't used to the floor moving around while I was standing on it.

"You're fine," Cedric called down. I tilted my head up, craning my neck to silently glower at him. He said, "Turn left, descend one flight and then climb up by the right side."

"Will there be a right side by the time I get there?" I demanded.

Cedric rolled his shoulders. "Might be. Best hurry."

I trotted down the stairs as I was told, hurrying so that I nearly tripped over the steps. Hit the lower landing. Quickly turned around and climbed up the set of stairs on the right. Cedric met me at the top, humor sparkling in his eyes. Personally, I was out of breath but yeah I could find the funny.

"How do you ever manage to get anywhere?" I asked, laughing with him.

Cedric pretended to think about it.

I rolled my eyes. "Never mind"

I dropped against the banister of the landing we shared, leaning on the unmoving stone. Cedric tilted a crooked smile and did the same. The sleeve of his black robes brushing against my arm. He smelled clean, like fresh laundry and herbs. The elaborate oil painting decorating this wall was of a grumpy old man who watched with blatant disapproval. I ignored it – pretending it didn't feel like my grandpa watching me flirt.

"You were amazing today," I said. Peeked through my lashes at the boy beside me. "What you did? You were incredible."

Cedric was modest. "It was no more than what the others did."

"No," I allowed. Licked my bottom lip. "But I wasn't watching the others . . ."

A pause. I dared another quick peek. Was that a flush staining the very tops of his cheeks? Hard to tell in the soft lamplight throwing shadows on the walls. I thought it was and heat surged under my skin. I was feeling almost giddy but it was nice. _**He**_ was nice.

I don't know why Klaus thought it so important that I chase after him, but I was glad he insisted.

Whatever my Original was doing, I was enjoying myself here.

Cedric tilted his face up, showing some of the blush quickly fading. His smile was easy. Golden brown hair fell back with the motion. It looked soft. He looked good in yellow. The yellow tie neatly done up, the yellow Hufflepuff crest stitched into his black robes. He would have looked strange in any other color.

"I know you're not a witch."

He said it so easily. No condemnation. The words spoken with the same inflection he would have used asking me the time. As if nothing at all important was just said.

My blood turned to ice.

"Excuse me?"

Cedric tilted his head to look at me sideways. "I think I knew it from the start, when I saw you sitting in that smoky dining room at the Three Broomsticks. You were different."

I came off the banister, body stiffening at the accusation. It didn't sound like an accusation but it certainly felt like one. I hadn't expected him to call me on it, even though it should have been obvious had anyone cared to pay attention. Cedric cared enough. Dammit.

My first impulse was to deny it. Right. Because lying hadn't already buried me under a mountain of deception with Klaus. I opened my mouth but not a sound came out. I looked helplessly around. Tried again: "It doesn't m-matter."

"I suppose it doesn't," Cedric admitted, surprising me.

"Then why'd you ask?" I demanded.

He said, "I didn't ask you anything. That was a statement."

"Rude."

"I suppose it was," he said. "I'm sorry. If it makes a difference, that is not what I intended to say."

I relaxed a little, relief like a cool current rolling under my skin. It surprised me to realize that for just a second, he'd scared me. I liked him. Didn't want to lose this – whatever this was – between us. Slowly, I let myself rest back on the banister. Cedric hadn't moved from his spot. A lock of hair curled over his forehead.

I sniffed. "What did you intend to say?"

"I have no classes in the morning, tomorrow," he said. "Want to join me for breakfast?"

Well then. Not the smoothest lead-up to asking me out. I blinked as the offer slowly sank in.

Cedric Diggory . . . was _**asking me out**_ to breakfast. Happiness shot through my body, a current of liquid heat. Icy cold horror followed quick behind, then sickly despair. Bad idea. This was an awful, awful idea. I couldn't say yes. It wouldn't be right. Not to him, or to me. I was an inter-dimensional traveler with zero control. This could only end in disaster.

The smart thing would be to turn him away. Wouldn't have to be mean, just a simple thank you but no.

"I don't think I'm allowed sit at the Hufflepuff table," I said with a weak little laugh.

No. That is _**not**_ what I meant to say.

_Tell him no, Amanda._

_But I like him!_

_Turn him down._

But I was lonely . . . and I wanted to go . . .

Cedric actually chuckled. "I meant breakfast in the village. Away from Hogwarts."

"Embarrassed to be seen with me?"

His answering shoulder-bump was teasing. "Absolutely."


	34. Chapter 33 - A Way In

**_*It goes without saying that The Originals and every other film, book or franchise that will be mentioned in this fanfiction belong to their respectful owners. I claim no ownership or association to any of the many "universes" that will be visited in this fanfiction.*_**

**Chapter 33**

**A Way In**

* * *

You might belong in Hufflepuff

Where they are just and loyal

Those patient Hufflepuffs are

True and unafraid of toil

– **Sorting Hat**

_Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_

J.K. Rowling (author)

* * *

Ron Weasley was not at dinner.

I noticed his absence. Hadn't really thought anything of it, other than that it was weird he wasn't with his friends. Not interesting enough to keep my attention I totally forgot about Ron's absence.

We found him in a moonlit corridor on the fourth floor.

Orange hair spiked as if he'd been running his fingers through it, robes hanging off his shoulders. Red tie undone, the knot coming loose. He was a bit of a mess. He was also preoccupied, trying to break through a door by waving his wand over the heavy iron latch. The moonlight seemed to move over the floor, dimming as clouds passed quickly in front of the bright source of that shine. Windows rattled from the wind outside.

Seeing him there, in a place he shouldn't have been, had the same eerie fluttering as watching a moth dance dangerously around a flame. Nerves shivered over my skin. I hesitated to come any closer. Cedric lay his hand on my arm, reassuring as he sensed my apprehension. I was thankful he offered to walk with me.

Sparks spit from the end of Ron's magic wand. The classroom door heaved loudly, heavy wood and iron screaming protests.

"Is he supposed to be doing that?" I whispered sideways to Cedric, who only frowned.

Ron heard me and spun, eyes flashing wildly in the blue moonlit corridor. I tensed, jumping noticeably by how fast he moved. Ron took an unsteady step away from the door. His robes slid even further off his skinny shoulders. I heard the slid of wood on fabric and looked quickly down, surprised that Cedric had half-drawn his own wand from the folds of his robes and was holding it there. Poised.

Whoa.

Ron didn't seem aware of what was going on.

He didn't seem particularly aware of anything, as his eyes rolled around in his head. Not looking at us though Cedric and I stood clearly in the centre of the stone passage. We weren't hiding but for a second I wondered if Ron could see us. He shuffled his feet and glanced furtively at the door. His chest was heaving. Gasping breaths like he couldn't get enough air.

Cedric moved forward, bringing himself closer to the younger Gryffindor boy. He did it carefully and that did not escape my notice. Tension knotted the muscles at the base of my neck, between my shoulders. Would there ever come a time where I wasn't at least a little apprehensive? Ready and waiting for the next disaster to hit?

Ron wobbled a little more and spun a half pirouette, balanced on the heels of his shoes. He smiled at Cedric. An open, toothy, drunken grin even as it a second to focus his eyes.

Enough of this.

"What are you doing?" Cedric asked.

Ron's grin wavered. "I need to get inside."

Cedric kept his hand on the butt of his wand, still only half drawn. Cautious but not aggressive. Waiting to see if his magic was even necessary.

"No, no, c'mere. Shhhh." Ron put a finger to his mouth, shushing us. "I need to get inside."

I moved closer to Cedric and asked, "What's in there?"

"Nothing," he said. "That's a supplies cabinet."

Ron wasn't listening. He waved his wand around and stuck the point right on the iron latch. Tapped three times. "Bumble blue bee. Bee blue bumble open!"

This was weird. Boy was sputtering nonsense while his wand sparked and spit. Trying to break through a door that wasn't even locked.

"Ron?" I tried in my best talking-to-lunatics voice. Hoping I didn't sound _**too**_ condescending. "Ron? Tell us what happened."

I thought he was going to ignore me. Ron was trying to wedge the end of his wand into the keyhole. Wiggling it around with some frustration. Then he paused, tilting his head as my question finally started to sink into his muddled skull.

I felt the ticking of seconds like drops of water pounding on my nerves. Ron's smile twisted angrily. He turned his glowing wand straight into my face, teeth bared and blue in the magical shine.

Cedric drew his wand with a swish.

"Put it down," he warned.

"Boo," Ron said. Magic swelled, responding now to his intentions rather than struggling with the nonsensical words he sputtered before. The cool air crackled with static. "You – can't – stop – me!"

Horrified, I stared straight into his twitching eyes.

"I won't say it again," Cedric said easily. He held his magic wand steady, loosely balanced in his grip.

The threat couldn't have been clearer. Cedric would not break, his power greater, his control so far beyond what Ron could scrape together . . . it was no contest. Cedric was the superior and if Ron were coherent enough to realize that –

– Ron was not coherent to recognize that.

He lifted his glowing stick, mouth stretching angrily back and I could see his befuddled mind fumbling urgently for the words to a spell. My hands went up, palms out to shield my face like that would make any sort of difference: "Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!"

Cedric spoke a single command: "_Expelliarmus_."

He said it so calmly, absolutely no urgency in his voice and I watched as a bolt of light blew Ron's wand right out of his hands. His shoes scuffed the floor as the force of Cedric's spell kicked him back a step. My heart was thundering, beating so loudly in my head I felt faint.

"What was _**that**_?!" I screamed at the orange-haired boy, panic overriding every bit of control. It was dark enough in the moonlit corridor that I didn't see where his wand went, but on the heels of my scream I heard the clattering of wood on stone.

Ron had nothing to say to me. He stared balefully at his now empty hand, just bewildered by what'd happened. He was _**sure**_ his wand was there a second ago. The danger was passed. Cedric carefully sheathed his own wand back into the folds of his robes and laid a warm hand on my trembling arm.

"Are you alright?"

Ron was a mess. He pitched sideways into the wall, mewed pathetically and slid down to the floor. He looked like he had no idea what was going on. Like he couldn't quite make out where he was. What he was doing there.

"Amanda?" Cedric lingered, loathed to leave my side if I were freaking out. I appreciated his touch, the way he made contact as if to reassure me that he was there and I was safe but there was no need for that.

I brushed Cedric off. "What's wrong with _**him**_?"

Ron continued to mutter, drawing his fingers over the stone floor. No attempt to retrieve his wand or any attention spared for us. Not for Cedric who'd disarmed him so easily, or me – the girl he'd nearly zapped. I wrapped my arms over my stomach, holding tightly and Cedric left me with one last lingering glance. It was clear that I wasn't the one who needed help, now.

I blew out a tired breath.

Would I ever get used to the suddenness of attack? I was changing – had changed – and all so quickly it was a bit of a shock to realize by how much. Being threatened so suddenly, Ron had scared me. That was true and my heart thundered in response; _**knock-knock-knocking**_ like it wanted out. Adrenaline spiking heat under my skin, which of course made my whole body prickle as nerves tingled. That was it, all of it a physical response to threat.

My mind was clear. No panic to cloud my thinking.

I didn't want to get used to danger, the suddenness of being attacked like it was only to be expected but there was nothing I could do about that. What bothered me most in that moment, watching Cedric kneel by a sweaty Ron, was that it'd happened often enough now that I was adapting.

That wasn't the only epiphany I was having.

Cedric saved me.

Clear, calm power. The wand was only a tool; what he used to channel his magic but the will to use it and the intelligence to use it appropriately . . . that was all him.

Klaus saved me.

His motivations were more selfish; he needed me. I offered companionship, conversation and now answers. That didn't matter so much, I trusted him to be what he was.

I wasn't helpless, I knew that. I had a brain and spirit enough to save myself. Not some damsel in distress – screaming "help me! Help me!" while cowering in terror. I could fight. Not well, but I could put up a fight. I could save myself. And yet somehow, without really ever meaning to, I just didn't.

I wasn't useless, either, I expected no one to carry me. Wasn't afraid to get my hands bloody, didn't wilt like a delicate flower when it was hot and I sweated. I never complained. Things got bad and I dealt with it. Yet I felt so . . . so . . .

Klaus saved me. Cedric saved me.

Giovanna spirited me away and there was nothing I could do to stop her. I'd already come to accept the circumstances. The position I was in as owner of the Cube. I was adapting. I clenched my jaw, frustration burning embers.

This wasn't going to get any easier.

**XxXxXx**

Ron was given a bed in the Infirmary, sedated so that he would sleep though the night but only lightly. Madam Pomfrey was a competent nurse and wanted Ron to sleep but still be able to wake himself. His breaths were deep, the rise and fall of his chest rhythmic. I could see his eyes move under their lids as he dreamed.

The sun rose white over the castle, bars of light slanting through the high windows. A gradual descent over the walls, sliding noiselessly lower until finally touching the floor. Motes sparkled, drifting weightlessly on the air. My body ached with tiredness and it didn't seem to matter than I'd slept in a bed. A headache beat behind my eyes.

I'd been left alone for most of the evening. Cedric and I together brought Ron Weasley here, one arm draped over my shoulders while Cedric helped to carry his other side. Ron was conscious but only just. Totally insensible he would mutter words, string together sentences that made no sense whatsoever. A terribly concerned Madam Pomfrey came out in her nightclothes and a bonnet to tend him almost the moment we stepped through the doors.

Klaus watched curiously from the dark corner where we slept. Stretched out on top of the clean white sheets. Propped up on his pillow, one hand braced behind his head. Boots off, coat hung on the hook between our beds. He didn't get up to come see, but I could feel his eyes on me. Madam Pomfrey didn't care as she tended Ron with a calm efficiency I admired.

His behavior strange enough to be a drug induced delirium, I'd assumed that Ron had been poisoned. Given something so that he would so totally loose his mind as to wander through the halls at night attacking passersby and breaking into unlocked rooms but Madam Pomfrey corrected me; it was only a hex, and a relatively mild one at that. Mild! As if he had nothing worse than skinned knees. She suspected it was a prank but would alert the headmaster regardless. Hexes were not toys, and Ron might have seriously hurt himself or another in his delirium.

Just a joke. No.

I wanted to discuss the strangeness of this evening with Klaus, but he wanted nothing to do with me. Klaus wasn't particularly caustic, only uninterested in whatever I had to say. We went to sleep and the hours seemed to pass so slowly. As worn out as I was, I don't remember falling asleep.

Nothing in this world was like I expected. Nothing exactly right.

Ron woke shortly after I did, blinking sleepily in the morning light. He was confused as to what he was doing in the hospital wing . . . but eager enough to talk when I went to go sit with him.

"We've met," I said.

"I remember," Ron agreed. "Outside the Three Broomsticks. It was cold, eh?"

Sure he thought so. I remembered the hunk of ice that'd slid down Ron's back, dislodging from his scarf because he wouldn't stop moving about. Blizzard moving in, the first drifty-flakes just sort of hanging there. Windows spilling warm yellow light onto the snowdrifts outside.

I said, "Do you remember last night? Anything at all."

Ron had huge eyes, I saw. They glossed as he sent his mind back, fishing around for memories he might not even have. What did that hex do to his mind? He was so confused before . . . totally insensible.

"You were there," Ron said.

He made it sound like he was asking me.

"I was. I met you upstairs and you weren't feeling very well."

Ron looked across at his bedside table, where his knotty wand was placed after it was retrieved. It was impossible to tell how much he remembered, if anything at all but he stared at the wand and I could see the consideration in his eyes. Digging deep for those elusive memories.

"Ron," I said, using his name to establish familiarity. I needed him to talk to me, to volunteer information. "Ron, do you remember being spelled? Do you remember anything of what happened to you yesterday?"

He heaved a tired sigh and rearranged the blankets around his waist. Boy was sitting up but it did feel personal, dressed only in a white patient-gown while I sat fully-dressed beside him. Too intimate for total strangers.

"Okay, how about; do you have any idea _**when**_ you might have been spelled? Suspicions? What's the last thing you remember before it gets all confused?"

"Not confused, really. Bloody hell," he slapped his palm to his forehead, maybe a little too hard "it's like you're asking me 'bout a dream I had once, and now I got to remember somethin' I didn't care 'bout even when it jus' had it."

"Wonderful," I muttered.

Ron must have thought I was criticizing his usefulness.

"I was goin' to dinner," he said, brown eyes narrowing under messy orange bangs. "I remember leaving the Gryffindor common."

"And then?"

"Then nothing. That's it."

Spelled right outside Gryffindor tower. Someone waiting, if not for him than for _**someone**_ to come out. Ron was late, I could imagine him still pulling on his robes as he rushed to catch up with his friends. He would have been alone. I asked, "Did you see anyone there with you?"

"No," Ron mumbled.

Guess that was a stupid question, he would have told Madam Pomfrey already if he had. I didn't know what I was doing, playing sleuth in a school for magic kids. Don't know why I cared this deeply; Ron was on the mend and Madam Pomfrey assured us that there would be no lasting effects of the magic used on him. Rest was the only thing he needed; he could even return to class this afternoon if he wanted.

That's not true – I knew why I cared.

This never happened.

I was sure of it. No doubts whatsoever; Ron's hexing was not something that might have been, wasn't written, you never know. Shrug-wink. It totally derailed the written source and that scared me. A lot.

It seemed so important that I make the effort. Giovanna wasn't a passive participant in her own life, she took initiative. She changed things on purpose. I was screwing up by mistake. I'd considered this before, but it hadn't hit me this hard until now. Dumbledore called me a harbinger. To have a name for someone like me, he implied that there were others who came before. They brought with them food fortune or bad, but either way they left this world changed.

I was an anomaly.

"I'm sorry," I said.

Ron blinked. "For what?"

"I just am."

The heavy door rattled, people coming in. Clattering noise in what was an otherwise silent room, it jarred us. Too loud. I got up and moved away from the bed, leaving Ron to his friends. Hermione was the first inside, Harry right on her heels. Properly dressed in their school robes with the bright red and gold crests sewn into the black cloth. Both fresh and rested.

A far cry from Ron's bleary sleepiness and my wincing headache which was growing steadily heavier.

Too much to think about. My day was just starting.

Ron watched me go away, a bemused smile playing over his face. Returning to our little corner of the hall, where Klaus and I had been kindly given beds to sleep in I yanked the privacy curtain closed. The curtain wouldn't hide me, exactly, but a smooth white sheet suspended like a shower curtain from a steel bar would at least keep people from seeing what I was doing.

I grabbed my satchel off the hook where it hung, untouched, all night. The bag was heavy with the Cube inside and I felt a spike of irritation. Klaus was supposed to keep it. We _**agreed**_ that he would keep it at least until we left this world.

Checking to make sure the curtain was secure, I then climbed up onto my bed and pulled out the Cube. Black-on-black it absorbed the light. Nothing reflected, no shine even though I felt that the smooth sides should have been glossy. Too heavy for its size I could feel the tug on my wrists and a tremor of excitement I couldn't quite explain. I set the Cube down on my lap and pressed both hands on either side.

Stars burst from the centre of that vast nothingness. Whole stars and galaxies blew apart, flying out from the very centre of the Cube. They should have burned my hands, should have collided with my skin. Only they didn't. Instead, numbers warbled to the surface. Floating suspended in space.

**122-42-34**

Five days.

I could do a lot of damage in five days.

_**Skreeee!**_

"Ah!" Startled, I shoved the Cube back in my bag and dropped my satchel to the floor with a plop. Granola bars spilled out.

Green eyes framed by round glasses narrowed suspiciously. "What are you doing?"

"The curtain was closed, Harry," I snapped at him, to cover how badly he startled me. "What if I'd been changing?"

For a frozen moment I thought I screwed up – calling him by name. But no, we were introduced only a few days ago. Very possible I just remembered so Harry didn't even blink at the casual use of his first name.

"Into what, you're already dressed."

I picked up my satchel, scooping the bars back inside before flipping the top flap over. Harry Potter watched this, one hand still gripping the curtain.

"Did you need something?" I asked, making sure to sound more than a little irritated.

Harry let go of the curtain. "Why are you avoiding me?"

"I'm not avoiding you."

"You are."

Pretend became real irritation very quickly. I even huffed out a breath as I stood up from the floor. "Avoiding you _**how**_? We met for all of five minutes four days ago. We're not friends, kid."

Did not appreciate me calling him a kid, but Harry let that one slide.

I ignored him, slipping the strap of my bag over my head. I pulled my coat off the hook on the wall and shoved my arms through the sleeves, hating this stupid green windbreaker. I tugged my long hair up out of the collar and let it drape loose over my shoulders.

Harry. "Look. I know you're not who you say. I saw you again, in my dreams."

"Okay, no." I shoved past him. "Seriously inappropriate."

I knew what he meant. He didn't know that but pretending to misunderstand made more sense to me than admitting. Let Harry dance around trying to explain, to correct himself, and volunteer information without realizing it.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Hermione watching. Ron had his eyes closed, dozing lightly still propped up on his pillow. Hermione's interest was palpable, curiosity eating her up and I knew that Harry hadn't said anything to his friends about me. She didn't know.

He wanted to talk to me first.

That made me slow down, giving Harry a chance to make up his mind if he wanted to chase after me or not. I slammed through the doors to the outside hall; echoing stone and cathedral ceilinged corridor. There were windows but only further down. Here it was dimmer. Magically lit by these hovering balls of light like will-o'-wisps. They gave no heat. No scent.

Harry did follow. His robes whirled around his ankles, long sleeves blowing back, rushing to catch up after taking too long think about it. A flush stained his face red, cheeks mottling with embarrassment. It was almost comical. Almost.

"Look, I know you're not a witch."

I stopped at the top of the stairs, one hand closed over the cold stone banister and turned to face him. "Am I wearing a frickin' sign?"

"No," he said. "Well . . . no."

I'd thrown him. Another suspicious narrowing of those pretty green eyes, and I decided to take pity. "Okay. Look, I'm not avoiding you. I don't know you."

"I was raised in the muggle world, did you know that?" Harry offered. "I know a non-magic person when I see one, and you're not a _squib_. Who are you? Why do I keep seeing you in my sleep?"

Oh, I was so tempted to say: _'because I'm hot'_. It was right there, hanging off the tip of my tongue but I facing Harry squarely. For the first time just looking at him, seeing him close and uninterrupted. A small cut traced a line under one eye, almost hidden beneath the frame of his glasses. His cheek scrapped raw, a scab crusting over it.

He'd fought a dragon, too. Won his golden egg.

This kid – and it was hard to see him as anything more than a boy four years my junior – would save his world from a monster nobody even believed was out there. Not yet, but they would. Harry Potter experienced prophetic dreams. Never random . . . he saw what mattered.

"What're you dreaming about me?"

Harry scuffed his sneakers on the floor, and stepped down onto the step where I was. "Tell me where you come from."

"No," I said. "You kicked in the door, Harry, have the courage to walk through it. Tell me what you dreamed."

He considered me. The focus in his green eyes different from his friends. Ron so straightforward, open and honest. Hermione's brilliance cut like a knife. You could see her mind word; hard. Quick. Harry's stare was easier, but no less intelligent. Only quieter. You felt that he was right there with you, in the moment, not thinking of what to say next. He was paying attention.

Finally, "I'm not sure."

The way he said it. I believed him.

We weren't alone. A bell tolled, echoing hollowly through the castle. Cold prickling energy hinted at the ghosts I couldn't see. Breakfast was over and students were starting to roll out of the great hall, a flurry of cloaks and voices intruding on our privacy. People climbed the stairs, books and bags and wands. A multitude of colors. Harry paid no attention but it rattled me. All the noise. All these faces. Strangers.

"What was I doing?" I demanded, skin wincing as a Gryffindor girl swept past me. Too close, the sleeve of her robe flapped on my arm.

Harry glanced back, over his shoulder. Undoubtedly thinking he should have stayed with his friends. Too late now. I wanted to shake him, heart hammering with urgency. Maybe a smidgen of panic, I was by myself surrounded by a crowd and I didn't like it.

"Look, you ran after me so tell me what you saw. What was so important?"

"The whole world was on fire," Harry said, managing defiance despite the way his eyes widened at the memory. "Everything was burning, everyone but not you. Not you."

**XxXxXx**

Cedric met me on the snowy road just outside of the town of _Hogsmead_.

It was an absolutely beautiful morning, in stark contrast to the foggy gray of the tournament. Sunlight glistened on the deep drifts, icy crystals and the wind tossing loose flurries into air clear as class. The smell of pine resin and wood, snow collected on dark branches weighing them down. So quiet that only the crunch of my boots on the path accompanied the lonely walk down from the castle. I met no one else on the way.

Cedric's smile was friendly, open and warmed me straight through.

He looked really good, snowflakes dusting his hair and jacket. Yellow scarf draped loosely over the back of his neck, today too warm to really need it. I wanted to loop my arm through his, but that wouldn't have been appropriate. Still, the look in his eyes when he caught sight of me coming down the road made me feel glad I was here. I almost managed to talk myself out of coming today.

Ironically, if Klaus hadn't given me the cold shoulder . . . I might have chickened out and stayed with him instead. My eyes swept the winter wonderland forest, a road where there should have been white horses and sleigh bells.

"Did you know it was going to be beautiful today?"

Cedric's smile quirked. "Magic."

"Silly me," I said on a laugh. "Of course."

He held out his hand and it felt so natural to take it. Very right and part of that was because I didn't feel the same tension around Cedric as I did with my other companion. Klaus was dangerous and to touch him always felt so daring. So ballsy. He would endure my touch but it wasn't welcome. I didn't want to think of Klaus now.

Cedric's skin was firm and hot on my slightly frozen fingers.

"Have you eaten?" he asked me.

"No, not yet."

"Good," he said and hell if his smile didn't twist into something naughty. "There was something I wanted to show you."

Oh? I let him lead me by the hand into the small town of _Hogsmeade_. This early in morning there weren't many other students wandering around. A few but really not a lot. Most of the people I saw wandering along the snowy paths and dinging bells into shops were grownups. Adults wrapped in colorful cloaks and robes belonging to none of the school's houses. It lent a particular lazy Sunday feeling to this sparkling, gingerbread town.

I smiled wide and skipped closer to Cedric. Trusting him. Our boots kicked through inches of powdery snow collected overnight, not yet cleared off the main road. My gaze landed on the sign over the Three Broomsticks Inn. A smell of wood fire and smoke wafted from the peaked brick chimney.

Klaus and I stopped there for dinner when we first arrived, because the Cube landed us smack in the narrow alley behind the Inn. Slushy and dirty and cold, smelling faintly of garbage and wet. I shivered at the memory.

"There it is," Cedric said, drawing my attention forward. I blinked up at the solid stone, black stone, storefront with its crystal windows. Ice frosted the glass and behind that glittering silver webbing I saw just a hint of wonderful things.

A wide sign pained pink and green hung over the door, boldly proclaiming "_Honeyduke's_" in bright painted letters. My heart skipped at the sight, delight sparkling around my heart. I knew what this place was. I knew exactly what this shop had inside it.

Happiness burst apart and I grabbed onto Cedric's arm, squealing a little bit. Embarrassing! Couldn't help myself. Cedric's knowing laugh adding a deeper cadence to my delight.

"Yes?"

"Oh, yes!" I crowed. "Yes, yes, yes. I _**wanted**_ to come here."

His smile wavered a little.

So did mine, uncertain by the emotion that flit over his expression but it was gone so fast I couldn't be sure. He figured out by himself I wasn't a witch; how would a muggle know of Honeydukes? Was it a mistake, getting careless, or was I over just thinking this?

"I don't have any money," I said slowly, having just now considered that.

"I take you to the most beloved candy store in our world," he drawled, eyes flashing merrily. "Offer to share the wonders of my world, a thing we take for granted but that your deprived muggle upbringing –"

I balked. "Excuse me? _**Deprived**_?"

"– and what concerns you are a few _Sickles_."

I bumped him. "Or else I don't want to celebrate the rest of today in a jail cell for _stealing_ from the most beloved candy store in your world. I guess its fine to just look around. Are you taking me on a tour of _Hogsmeade's_ most noteworthy attractions? Where next?"

"What do you know of _Hogsmeade's_ attractions?"

Smirk. "I want to see the haunted house."

"I suppose we can go there now," Cedric mused, giving Honeydukes a lingering glance. The store gleamed like a jujube in the snow. All candy pink and soda pop shop stripes. "If you'd rather listen to the wailing of poltergeist and rattling chains."

"Oh, shush," I said with a laugh. "This is great. Thanks for bringing me."

The wind gusted, stirring flakes up into the clear morning air. Bitingly cold on my cheeks, I could feel them pinch and Cedric's hair tumbled in the gust. Gold and oak brown and wood red. Loose and soft strands. Gray eyes and such a handsome face, smiling at me now. He had none of Klaus' hard complexity. None of that dangerous intoxication. He was simpler, but not simple. Safer but not just a pretty face and I liked that. I _**liked**_ what I saw in Cedric, and the way he made me feel.

He smelled so good. Like clean clothes and the snow.

Cedric must have caught some of what I was thinking. Doubted he knew the half of it. He didn't remark on anything, just lifted our combined hand up to his chest and held it there. Warming my knuckle on his jacket over his heart. Butterflies danced in my stomach.

"Come on," he said. "I think you'll like this."

We pushed through the wooden door, heat and warm light washing over us as we stepped inside.

Something needs to be understood. Where I come from, this universe was a wonderful fantasy world created and brought to life on the pages of a book. But to find it all real. To step straight from reality into that fantasy . . . it was amazing. It was beautiful and so fragile – like a dream. Like trying to hold a soap bubble in my hands, I was afraid to press too hard in case it burst.

I couldn't shut it out. Couldn't slow it down.

Scents. Caramel and brown sugar, the strongest, filling my head with a richness that wrapped my body with gooey heat. Chocolate, of course, bitter and dark. I never thought chocolate even had a scent, but it did. Cool peppermint, green and white like winter, and raspberry almost too sweet. Apple spice. Nuts. Buttery, warm, earthy.

The shelves, painted festive green were stacked with cartons. Packages. Glass jars on tables, red candies like cherries. More jars. More plates of sweetness. Lollipops larger than the palm of my hand stuck in cups, their heavy heads like flowers in a bouquet.

"Oh my god, Cedric!" I clasped his arm, nearly pitching him into a shelf stacked with rows and rows of buttery cookies. "It's better than I ever imagined!"

My eyes had to be twinkling like a kid in a Christmas commercial. I was on a date . . . in the most wonderful place in the world . . . with _**him**_. The face of an angel and a body built for sin. Cedric Diggory.

I was giddy with happiness.

"You can have whatever you want," he said, with a grandiose sweep of his arm encompassing the whole of the store. Corners filled with treasures it would take ages to sort through and that only made me happier.

"You're paying?"

Cedric's mouth twisted in a smirk both boyish and endearing. "Of course."

**XxXxXx**

They were called Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean.

Not the most exciting choice, I guess, after touring the real Honeydukes and its mountains of chocolates and mints and sweet gummies, salted caramels and coconut puffs like dusty snowballs. But I'll admit the nostalgia of that little box of colorful beans plucked at my heartstrings.

I'd wanted t o try them ever since I cracked open that first Harry Potter book. All wrapped in a blanket in my bedroom window, pretending I was there. Pretending any of it was real. In my imagination it was.

The most nervous first bite of candy I've ever had. Cedric stood and watched me amused, brows lifting in challenge as I picked a black bean out of the box. Held it between two fingers, wondering what awful flavor I was about to put in my mouth. I remembered Dumbledore once ate a vomit-flavored one and it put him off them for years.

Mine was not vomit, fortunately.

The good ones were delicious. The bad ones just foul; they tasted exactly like the gross things they were named after. And I mean _**exactly**_. Tar. Soap. Toe lint. Ugh.

And if Cedric hadn't paid for me, I would have gone my whole life without ever knowing what _"earthworm"_ tasted like. He didn't want any candy, but we left with two hot chocolates in dissolvable cups. The cups would disappear when we were done, Cedric assured me, not before. So I wouldn't have to worry about boiling hot drink suddenly spilling over my hands.

A few minutes later, I clutched a small paper bag and Cedric was licking whipped cream off his top lip. We strode together down the street, meandering back toward the long road to Hogwarts. It had started snowing while we were in the store; fat, heavy flakes drifting lazily down from a milk white sky. Flakes settling on my shoulders, on Cedric's cloak like stars.

Perfect and peaceful.

Of course it wouldn't last. Why would happiness last? The steam from my cup of hot cocoa wafted over my face, chocolaty sweetness warm on my tongue and spreading all through my body as I took little sips. My mind went in a direction I didn't want it to go.

Klaus.

My heart ached as I thought of him. Pictured his face in my mind, the cut of his devil-may-care smirk. Like the world was just one colossal joke and he was the only one getting it. Wasn't he a wonder, too?

He was _**my**_ wonder.

No clue what games he was playing now, only that my tell-all confession had not gone the way I expected. He wasn't half as mad as I thought; didn't fly off the deep end the way he should have. Didn't blame me. Didn't demand more from me than I was giving him in that moment. It wasn't apathy . . . no, he was definitely interested.

Klaus gave me nothing.

It made my skin prickle. Tension knotting the muscles in my stomach. It rolled around with the butterflies already in there. I glanced at Cedric.

Only a few inches taller than me. Lighter. Softer than Klaus.

Safer than Klaus.

But Cedric was brief. He would occupy only a moment in time, a few days from my life.

Klaus was my permanent.

"I was wondering where your friend went," Cedric's voice, cold water on my whirl of confusion. Tension sizzled over nerves already pulled taut.

"What?"

"I don't think I've seen you apart even once," Cedric said. "Nice to have you to myself for a while."

Heat flushed in my cheeks. I took a small drink of chocolate, quickly cooling in the cold. "We're travelling together. So we tend to stick close."

"Hm." Cedric took a drink from his cup, and the steam rising from it condensed on his lashes. He sighed. "You never said where you were going. Where you came from."

Oh, no. "I suppose I didn't."

He waited for me to say more. What could I say? I escaped into my Every Flavor Beans. Cowardly but the bright green booger flavored pellet on my tongue distracted me. I spit it onto the snow. Curiosity piqued, Cedric pushed.

"I know you're more than you let on," he said. "I just wonder. You're all so secretive."

Oh, no doubt. Careful to keep my voice from trembling, I forced humor into my answer. "Maybe we're secret agents. The headmaster called us here to infiltrate the Tournament. Get to know its competitors. Make friends. Check for magic-cheating . . ."

Cedric laughed at that.

"How would you _**find**_ magic cheating? Non-magic person that you are."

My eyes narrowed teasingly. "Keep throwing that in my face and I just might take offense."

"Throw what at you? That you're a . . . muggle?"

I smacked his stomach with the back of my hand. "This muggle suckered you into buying her candy."

"Cedric snorted. "Please. This was my idea."

We were nearing the edge of town. Hogsmead's multitude of shops and homes behind us. There were more, houses squatting in cabin-like hollows surrounded by snowy banks on either side of the road. The snow under our boots crunched with ice, instead of the churned-slush.

It was quieter here. The wind whispered through the trees, the forest swaying noisily just out of sight.

The only evidence of life – that we weren't all alone out here – a single trail of footprints that snaked on ahead of Cedric and I. Winding back and forth along the road like a dog after a scent.

I sighed deeply, watching my breath waft out in a pale cloud. "How're you feeling?"

"Fine." Cedric crushed his empty cup and it dissolved into particles. "Any reason you think I shouldn't be fine?"

"Just wondering how you're getting on, after being tossed around like a sack of raw meat."

A knowing nod from the wizard at my side. "I thought I did fairly well, for the first challenge of this tournament."

"There're two more," I said, watching Cedric's face.

He didn't say anything, at first. My heart thumped steadily, no alarm, no adrenaline but I could see the uncertainty in his eyes. The question. The doubt. Doubts . . . I hadn't known were there. Made sense that he would question himself, his ability. To what? To compete? To succeed?

"When's the next challenge?" I asked.

Cedric smiled. A quick, automatic flash. "Tomorrow."

"So soon?"

"Hm."

"Have you . . ." I bit my lip, not even sure if I _**should**_ ask. "Have you figured out the egg? I-I mean the Egg you won."

He let out a frustrated sigh. "No. I opened it."

"And it let loose an earsplitting _**screech**_! D'you wake the dead? I bet you woke the dead."

"It's not funny," he said. "The Egg's a clue I need for what comes next. I need to prepare for the second challenge of this tournament but unless I can decipher the banshee wailing I don't even know where to start."

"Not a banshee," I said quietly.

I could help him. I knew the answer, it was common trivia to anyone who'd read the books. I knew the mystery of the magic golden Egg that screamed so loud it could blow out your eardrums. The real question here was; should I say anything? Cedric figures it out on his own. Later helps Harry to solve it.

But would he?

I licked my lip. "If I tell you how to do it, do you promise not to ask me how I know?"

Cedric's glanced was pure incredulousness. "You think you know the answer?"

"Hold the egg underwater," I told him. "Then duck your head down, and listen to screaming under the surface. The sounds will be muted, easier to hear and there's a rhyme in the noise. That's your clue."

And _**hope**_ I didn't just mess up royally but telling him that.


	35. Chapter 34 - Secrets Kept

**_*It goes without saying that The Originals and every other film, book or franchise that will be mentioned in this fanfiction belong to their respectful owners. I claim no ownership or association to any of the many "universes" that will be visited in this fanfiction.*_**

**Chapter 34**

**Secrets Kept**

* * *

"Dark and difficult times lie ahead. Soon we must all face the choice

between what is right and what is easy."

– **Dumbledore**

_Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_

J.K. Rowling (author)

* * *

I let the bathroom door click closed behind me, and caught my lip in my teeth as I tried not to smile at my own reflection. Staring into the soap spotted mirror over the little sink, I thought I looked better than I had in weeks. Happier. My cheeks rosy, eyes sparkling in the faint yellow light from the overhead. It could have been the cold, pinching my skin bringing out some red but of course I knew better.

I set my two small bags down on the floor, and wrenched the tap on. Pipes rattled and squeaked, protesting as they released a spray of lukewarm water into the basin. A bar of stiff yellow soap sat where Klaus left it that morning, right next to the faucet. I noticed without meaning to that the bathroom still smelled like him. Leather and denim and, faintly, juniper. His scent lingered in the damp, cool air as if loathed to settle.

Where Klaus was now, I had no idea.

I hadn't seen him since morning and even then, only briefly. I wanted to think he was avoiding me to throw off suspicion. Dumbledore continued to watch us with more than a passing curiosity. I hated the attention; wasn't sure what to do about it beyond pretend I wasn't aware of it. Scared me a little.

My _"date"_ with Cedric had been wonderful.

I liked him. I really did, and I liked spending time with someone so normal. To be fair, he wasn't actually normal at all. Cedric was a wizard and by all accounts, a gifted one. But compared to my other companion?

Klaus was moody. Secretive. There were times he seemed to appreciate having me around, others where it was like he barely tolerated my presence. I didn't like being away from him for so long, feeling as if I would somehow loose him and be left alone. Bopping through universes all by myself. Terrifying but I wasn't going to lose him; so why was it so hard to stop thinking about him? Volatile vampire with a werewolf's temper. He occupied my mind like he had any right to be there.

Doubtful he had any idea.

I let the water spurt into my hands, not washing. Only enjoying the liquid slide through my fingers. My skin dry and thick from the cold. I'd been out since morning and it was a long walk back to the castle. Cedric returned to the Hufflepuff dorm . . . after a painfully long goodbye. We both lingered, neither quite ready to leave and as embarrassing as it was to admit – I was kind of hoping he would kiss me.

But Cedric was a gentleman.

Warmth sparkled in my blood and I let myself smile, secure in that no one would see it. The smile faded almost as soon as it came, pragmatism competing with the pleasure of imagining it. There wouldn't be a second date.

I'd already taken this too far.

It wasn't fair to him. Cedric didn't know he was never going to see me again; that once I was gone, I was gone forever. He thought we had all the time in the world. Get to know each other. Fall in love. Or not. We could grow apart but still, we would have months and years to find where we fit in each other's lives. Shame I couldn't be there to find out, too.

My gaze fell to the two small bags at my feet. One carried my candy beans in a box from _Honeydukes_ – my mouth soured as I remembered the earthworm one I'd eaten. The other was a small brown paper bag, without any logo printed on it. My heart gave a nervous little skip. That one was a gift.

I dried my hands by pulling my fingers through my hair, loosening wind-tossed knots. Then I took my packages and went back out into the Infirmary. Weird to essentially be living in a sickbay but the neat steel bed at the far back was already starting to feel like it was mine.

Ron was there. It had to be at least one in the afternoon by now, but the boy looked content to stay for as long as he could get away with it. All snuggled down in his thin hospital sheets, warm and lazy. I paused to watch him, seeing only this shock of orange hair sticking messily out of the white blankets.

"Ditching class?"

Ron _**knew**_ I was talking to him. Orange hair disappeared completely under the sheets and I laughed, while he hunched his shoulders even more. Perfectly awake.

"I won't tell," I promised him. I meant it, too.

Let him have his day. Poor guy had a rough night.

I was immensely grateful his friends weren't around. Wasn't sure I was ready for round two with the famous – infamous – Harry Potter and his scary dreams. The one person I did want to talk to apparently developed the power of invisibility. Klaus was absent. At this point I was just about ready to declare him missing.

I set my bags down on my bed, and peeled my satchel off my shoulder where the strap had begun to dig in. It's not that the satchel was particularly heavy, just that it was heavy enough to actually feel it. Would have been nice if I could just take out the Cube but that sort of defeated the purpose.

With my back turned, I heard the big door swing open. Felt cooler air waft in from the corridor. I thought nothing of it, as I went about wrapping the things I bought tightly in their bags so that they wouldn't flap around when I put them in my satchel. It was the silence that made me stop.

No tap of shoes or the rustling of robes. No nearly imperceptible warmth to hint at a presence.

I turned only my head, scanning the bed-lined hall from over my shoulder and saw . . . no one. The huge doors swung slowly, closing that last inch with a muted _**click**_ and the hairs at the back of my neck stood on end. I turned the rest of me around, so I was now facing the open hall with its archaic arched ceiling and impersonal whitewashed walls and sterile steel beds. High windows cast bars of sunlight inside, causing a particular illusion of a very well-lit space blanketed in shadows.

"Klaus?" I whispered.

Unless someone came in and quickly ducked under a bed, there was nowhere to hide.

Very slowly, I lowered my body. Bending my knees, but staying on my feet. I peeked under my bed, hair trailing on the floor as I scanned the room from below. Looking for feet. For someone kneeling out of my sight, though I couldn't imagine why anyone would be crawling around on the floor. Of course, I saw nothing.

I stood up, feeling a little ridiculous . . .

* * *

**KLAUS**

Klaus watched the boy quietly descend the stairs, a flop of dark hair falling into his eyes.

From his position high above the enchanted stairs, he was able to see everything while no one had any idea he was even there. Perched like a gargoyle in the shadows and he rather enjoyed the image that presented. Dark, predatory menace watching . . . just watching . . .

Klaus had been haunting the castle's front entrance right up until Amanda returned.

He saw her with the golden boy, all rosy and tingling on hormones and more than a passing attraction. Amanda's scent hit him like a slap – sweet and dark. Jealousy burned a hole in his stomach as he watched her smile at the boy. Speak with him and lay her hand on his arm. A brief touch that made Cedric's heart beat faster. Klaus could have happily torn that arm right off Cedric's bloody body . . .

So he left.

Let her enjoy herself without him; he wouldn't sit there while she swooned into the arms of the first handsome face to show her attention. Klaus made his way deeper into the school and, entirely without meaning to, he found himself a prize.

The dark-haired boy stopped on the last step, closing both hands over the stone banister as the stair began to move. Familiar enough with these stairs to have anticipated it. A deep, low grinding. The staircase swung completely around, slipping smoothly into its new position. The boy waited; making sure it was stopped before he continued on his way. Climbing now, rather than descending and his black robes fluttered around his skinny body like a cape.

Klaus maneuvered off his perch, slipping through this web of wooden beams. Soundless as a phantom. He dropped, landing soundlessly behind his prey.

The boy tucked his scarf securely into his robes and moved to push through a small door that would take him outside. Klaus allowed a tight little smile and then, with a blur of Hybrid speed, grabbed Harry Potter and propelled them both straight into a pitch dark corridor. Cobwebs like silk drifted weightlessly off the walls and inches of dust collected on the floor – no one had been this way in a long time.

Harry fought as well as he could. Kicking ineffectively against the immovable wall that had him. His head spun with the speed in which Klaus manhandled him further away from the well-lit sections of the school into an abandoned classroom.

_**WHAM!**_

Klaus scattered dusty, cracked desks and pinned the young wizard down.

"Get off me!" Harry shouted, with admirable courage considering the rapid patter of his heart. His scent was sharp with panic. He couldn't know how that headiness excited the vampire part of the Hybrid nature. Fear was tasted in the blood, and nothing was saltier or more satisfying to feed the monster.

Klaus lit his eyes, purely for the aesthetic of glowing demon irises.

Harry stayed surprisingly quiet; he didn't scream or call for help. Accustomed to managing on his own, it might not have even occurred to him that he should make a noise. Instead, Harry Potter fumbled in his robes for the slim piece of enchanted wood he kept there. Klaus waited until the boy's hand closed around his wand, with the words to a spell already forming on his lips before clutching his wrist in a vice – nearly snapping it at the joint.

Let him think he had his weapon. Let him think there was anything he could do . . .

. . . the fun was in the game.

"W-who are you?" Harry demanded, air hissing through tightly clenched teeth.

Klaus unsheathed his fangs, feeling their sharp slide too close to Harry's throat. His eyes shining so bright they cast their own light. Harry trembled, tensing in expectation but this was only a taunt and a threat. The promise of violence.

"What did you say to her?"

"To who?"

"You know who." Klaus twisted Harry's arm further, bending the arm back. Tendons pulling in the boy's shoulder. A hot breath sawed in Harry's throat while sweat prickled on his face.

"I don't remember."

"Oh, I think you do. I think you remember exactly what you said." It came out harsher than Klaus meant, his voice roughening with need. Hunger roared through his body, crying out for blood and Harry's heartbeat a dinner bell deafeningly loud. "Fire and brimstone and you, little spellcaster, had best be careful of the things you say out loud. Who knows what else may be listening?"

Klaus was listening and he heard enough already. Enough to want to silence the child-wizard permanently, if only to distract those who would notice. The attention he brought to Amanda a threat. Harry was dangerous to her, and she hadn't noticed. Klaus did.

Harry was a fool. Ignorance didn't excuse him. The boy craned his head around, trying to get a clearer view of the monster holding him down. "What do you care? What are you protecting her from?"

"You challenged her. Your vision of the world on fire, and you challenged her for answers." Klaus could scarcely keep the contempt from his voice. "What were you expecting?"

"Anything," Harry admitted. "I don't know what I thought she'd say. I thought –"

"– you were careless."

Harry was trembling from the pain stretching tendons in his shoulder. Klaus wouldn't let him go, didn't loosen his hold. Harry's shoulder flamed like it was tearing.

Klaus curled his lip, "I listen too. _Gryffindor_. Courage and fierceness above all, the most decorated – home only to the bravest of your kind."

Harry had no idea where Klaus was going with this and so said nothing. His breaths sawed harshly in his throat, frightened by those glowing eyes. The length of fangs that hadn't been there before. Harry's mind churned, grasping desperately at his lessons. Magical beasts and the dark arts.

What had him? What was this terrible creature?

Harry's eyes widened, emerald green in the dark room with only a single dusty beam of light to filter in from a high window. One – only _**one**_ came to mind and that one was terrifying: _vampire_.

"What do you want from me?" Harry demanded, voice warbling on the pitch. Throat and tongue stiffening with renewed terror and a prevailing sense of his own powerlessness.

"They call you brave. I say foolish. Too full of yourself to recognize a threat; to thick to know when to leave well enough alone. What do I want from you? Your silence." Klaus twisted Harry's arm all the way around, nearly popping his shoulder. Harry hissed, fighting to swallow the pain as white heat erupted at the joint. Klaus whispered right into Harry's ear, "Keep your secrets, boy, or someone might keep them for you."

"You are protecting her!" Harry ground through clenched teeth. "Who are you? Where d-did you come from?"

"Actually, there is something more you can do for me," Klaus amended, pulling Harry's scarf clean off. He let it fall to the dusty floor, a colorful ribbon collapsed in a heap. "See, I haven't fed in days."

Harry did not understand the significance of those words, had no time to make sense of them. Klaus plunged his fangs deep into Harry Potter's throat and as he swallowed that first rush of dark, hot blood . . . he wondered . . . he wondered . . .

* * *

**AMANDA**

The Sorting Hat moved on its shelf, mouth rolling in a chewing motion like an old man gnawing a cigar.

I couldn't sit down. Couldn't settle enough to find a chair, even though there were cozy padded seats around a glossy wooden table right beside the fire. Dumbledore's tea-green kettle and fine china cups were arranged on a silver tray; soft steam rising from the spout of the pot. A faint scent of lemons. The crackle and pop of the fire, a cottony warmth without any of the winter drafts I could feel everywhere else in this school lulling my body into a false complacency.

I'm not stupid. I knew that was the point.

I knew that's why I was left alone. They wanted my initial suspicion to wear away, comforted by this peaceful non-action. Nothing was happening. See, there was no reason to be afraid . . . have some tea. Sit by the fire and be welcome. We're all friends here.

Bull.

Klaus did something terrible.

They wouldn't tell me what, but I knew that one of us had done something awful and it wasn't me.

For the first time, I thought to question Klaus' absence. Rather than avoiding me, were they keeping us apart? If anything could break through my defenses, there it was. I drew strength in knowing Klaus was around – no matter what turbulent mood he was in; I did like having him here with me. I missed him. I had to be the only human on the face of the Earth – any Earth – to find comfort in the company of Klaus Mikaelson.

And now the Sorting Hat dropped its pretense. More than a head-accessory, this thing was alive and it was letting me know that. I wasn't curious. That put me on my guard.

"Why now? What changed that you pick now to show yourself?"

The Sorting Hat continued to chew, cloth lips puckering as it considered me through the folds it had for eyes. Empty sockets and yet they conveyed emotion and thought the same as any real person. More than a little disconcerting, to be honest.

"Talk to me." I stepped up, bringing myself closer to the immense dark wood bookcase and the high shelf where it rested. "Please. Just talk to me. Say something!"

"Are you afraid?"

Not what I was expecting. The question threw me, but I recovered quickly.

I said, honestly, "Yes."

"_Mmmhhh_. What frightens you, child?"

Everything. That wasn't an answer.

"I don't know," I told the Hat. "Tell me why you'd show yourself to me now? I knew you were alive before, it wasn't a secret."

"_Mmmhhh_," muttered the Sorting Hat, its fabric lips turning down in a severe frown. "Such a peculiar creature, you are. Fierce, you burn, yet I sense no fire at your core. _Mmmhhh_. Yours is drawn from another source."

Fire. Harry Potter had mentioned fire, the world burning all around me and thinking of that now sent a chill racing straight up the centre of my back. Couldn't let any of that show on my face. In my voice.

"You're not the only one who thinks I'm peculiar," I said, fixing on that one part like I missed the rest.

"No," the Hat agreed with a rough chuckle. "The Headmaster is quite taken with you. _Mmmhhh_. What do you make of him?"

I let out a tired breath. "I think he wants something from me I can't give him."

"Such a lonely place to find yourself," the Hat mused, heavy brows lowering. Not with censure but rather a distinct empathy I hadn't expected from anybody.

Still, the assumption was unnervingly accurate. "Why would you say that?"

The Hat mumbled and chewed, moving restlessly on its silver stand. I waited for more. My sweater slowly drying in the cozy warmth of Dumbledore's office, still damp with snow and sweat from my morning out with Cedric. The fire lent an almost domestic ambiance to the ticking and chirps of various magical devices tucked away on shelves. A smell like herbs permeated the toasty air, making me feel warm on the inside. My head thick with sleepiness.

Potent magic because when the Sorting Hat spoke again, it surprised me. In the space of a few seconds I'd forgotten what I was waiting for.

"Yours is a difficult road shared by so few, though you are not the only soul to find yourself on it. _Mmmhhh_. You sense the distance left yet to journey, the absence of any place, and it frightens you. You question your courage and your worth."

A chill; I felt the weight of those words, vague as they were. It should have been nonsense, even sounded like the watery prediction you'd get from a county fair psychic and yet I understood what he meant. I saw that it was true and something inside me came undone. That fast I started to shake.

"You think you know me? How much have you heard, from your little place on the shelf? Tell me: what do you _**think**_ you know?"

"What you lack, child, is direction. Purpose. Mmmhhh. You yearn to belong and yet there is no place for you."

All of that said without any particular inflection. The Sorting Hat could have been reading off a menu for all the passion in its gravelly old man's voice. It only made me madder.

"And you think you can do that? Give me a purpose?" My heart beat like thunder in my chest, filling my head with noise. Unwanted emotion roiling inside me, heating my body and I clasped it with both hands. Forcing it down, forcing it back. It was hard.

"No, child. _Mmmhhh_. I cannot show you the way, only offer a place where to begin."

"Why?"

Why indeed. The Sorting Hat considered me a moment, thinking of how to respond or else debating the merit of saying anything at all. My face must have been so flush. I felt hot and then cold and strangely vulnerable standing there under that big bookcase packed with shiny, alien contraptions that ticked and hissed and whistling little magic noises.

"_Mmmhhh_. Few things interest me," said the Sorting Hat. "When one has existed as long as I, having witnessed so many brilliant souls fade into obscurity; forgotten in the ceaseless passage of the ages . . . one learns to distance oneself from the trials and tribulations of an ever-changing yet unchanged world. My duties are to this school, to the children who come to find themselves through me."

I swept my hair over one shoulder with a careless sweep f my hand, and climbed down from the raised floor.

"You are not the green muggle child I saw sitting there – yes, just there – timid as a mouse only days past. _Mmmhhh_. Already you've demonstrated an aptitude for change. What stops you, I wonder."

The Sorting Hat gnawed, chewed, puckered its lips and mumbled like an old man churning over an idea in his head. "I can tell you where you belong, child, and that is something you will carry with you. A foundation on which to stand."

My heart gave a hard double-tap. I thought I knew what the Hat meant, but caution had me doubting myself. Carefully, to be sure, I asked, "You want to Sort me?"

"_Mmmhhh_."

A surge of excitement rippled through my body, sweeping past all those other roiling emotions in a current that left me almost dizzy. Going from one extreme to the other. But I wasn't ready to be swept away by the novelty of this, the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that nobody else in my own universe would ever know. And I think that tiny bit of sensibility, that little voice whispering _'wait'_ kept me from jumping in feet-first.

"I-I'm not a witch. And I'm not a student here."

"You are human, are you not?" it said, very softly. "You feel. You think. You have a heart and a mind and the freedom to choose. You can be Sorted same as any in possession of a soul."

It almost made me laugh. I think I would have and I'm not sure why I didn't because the trap was obvious. "No. No, I think I'd rather not."

Read my mind, tell where I fit best and pass along my secrets to Dumbledore. No. I knew where this was going. I _**was**_ curious; I would have liked to find what Hogwarts House I would have been placed. And the Sorting Hat was right, I was afraid . . . afraid of failing. Afraid that I would never be enough. Not strong enough. Not smart enough. That I wouldn't survive this trip without an end. Terrified of having to live this way for years and years.

The rest of my life.

Tears burned in my throat, and an icy chill swept through me. The hairs on my arms prickled, and I rubbed my hands over my skin. The Sorting Hat pursed it's cloth lips, one heavy brow lifting slowly higher. I wished I knew what it thought of my decision.

Wished I could tell if the Hat thought I was making a bad choice.

Or if it approved of my questionable display of independence. Not certainty, for sure. I didn't know that I was making the right choice.

A draft of cooler air wafted, pushing my hair forward and I turned.

Dumbledore came in, his blue star-speckled robes dusted with snowflakes. Long white beard tucked into his heavy leather belt, cinched securely around his waist. He offered me a weary smile, and swept one hand out in invitation to sit.

I hesitated.

"Please, child," he said on a sigh. "Humor an old man. My blood grows thinner ever year."

He moved up onto the raised platform, sweeping past me with a smell like outside. Cold air and snow and ice melting into the wool of his cloak. He was massing his hands, his long fingers very white. I deflated a little, seeing that, and went to go sit with him by the toasty fire. Dumbledore settled into his own chair and pulled out his wand, flicking it in graceful whorls. The hearth fire immediately roared up, whooshing with new heat.

"Much better," said Dumbledore, with a twinkling wink for me.

I smiled.

"Tea?"

Without waiting to see my response, he picked up the pretty green pot and carefully poured us both a cup. The liquid gleaming such a delicate color, like champagne. The smell of lemons and mint grew stronger. I thought nothing of taking a small sip from the cup Dumbledore handed me, to be polite. The Sorting Hat grumbled on its shelf.

"I apologize for the delay," Dumbledore said, sitting back with a contented and grateful sigh. "There was a minor emergency that required my attention."

"Emergencies seem to happen a lot, here," I said. Sip-sip, I took another drink. "Maybe it'd be best for Klaus and I to find someplace else to stay."

Wrinkles crinkled around Dumbledore's shrewd blue eyes, though his smile at least look as honest as it could. "Have you seen your friend?"

"Briefly this morning," I said, relieved that that at least was true. No need for lies yet.

Dumbledore nodded, believing me. "A student was brought to the Infirmary. Gravely wounded and yet without a mark to show for it. Quite peculiar."

"Is that what kept you? Is Ron okay?"

"Young mister Weasly has already returned to the Gryffindor common, and is doing quite well," Dumbledore said and as benign as his words were, his eyes landed on me with the weight of immovable mountains. I felt the thrum of invisible power thickening the atmosphere around us. "Are you acquainted with Harry Potter?"

Lie.

Lie!

I _**couldn't**_ lie. Harry'd been seen with me just that morning, talking on the top landing of the grand staircase. Even if Dumbledore didn't already know the answer to that question, it wouldn't be hard to find someone who did. People were coming and going from breakfast, preparing for classes. Coming up and going down, brushing right past us while I stood there chatting with Harry Potter.

"I am," I said and nothing else. Careful here. Don't volunteer any information.

Dumbledore continued to stare, his blue eyes boring into mine with such intensity it was like he could see straight through to the back of my head. The Sorting Hat pursed its lips and grumbled unintelligibly. Warmth sparkled through my blood, strongly enough so that it broke my paralysis.

I looked away.

"Is Harry okay?"

Dumbledore poured a little more tea in my cup, topping it up. "Oh, yes. Madam Pomfrey assures me he only needs rest. It really is quick curious."

"Why . . . why are you telling me this?"

"Harry has no memory of what happened to him" – more grave staring – "and only hours since his friend was found, insensible, wandering the upper floor corridors."

I bristled. "I had nothing to do with that."

"I did not think you did."

He smiled now. "Calm yourself, child. This is not why I requested to speak with you this evening. Tell me, how are you?"

"I'm . . . fine? I'm okay."

Vague question with a thousand interpretations, I bumbled it but Dumbledore was already moving on giving no sign he meant more than the question implied. "Am I correct in saying you've grown quite close to young Mister Diggory?"

"Cedric?" I asked, still flustered. "I-I guess. Is that a problem?"

"Not at all," Dumbledore assured me, with a grandfatherly pat on the hand. His skin was paper thin and still cold, despite the roar of the fire between us. I curled my fingers, pulling my hand out from under his. "Here, drink more."

My eyes slid to the cup on the table in front of me, freshly filled with more of the lemony champagne-colored tea sparkling in the firelight. My brows furrowed as another shiver of heady warmth tingled under my skin and Dumbledore stood up, pulling his wand from the inner folds of his damp robes.

My heart stopped.

Mouth went dry.

"What did the hell did you give me?"


	36. Chapter 35 - The Return of Giovanna

**_*It goes without saying that The Originals and every other film, book or franchise that will be mentioned in this fanfiction belong to their respectful owners. I claim no ownership or association to any of the many "universes" that will be visited in this fanfiction.*_**

**Chapter 35**

**The Return of Giovanna**

* * *

"It can't be coincidence . . . Harry's dreams, his scar hurting, the Dark Mark, his name

coming out of the Goblet of Fire. Surviving the Tournament isn't the answer anymore, Harry.

It's bigger than this. And I really think you should go to Dumbledore!"

– **Hermione Granger**

_Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_

J.K. Rowling (author)

* * *

A soft blue glow lit the hidden chamber.

A light that did not flicker or dance. Magical torchlight, it gave no warmth. No comfort. Only that sedate, eerie shine.

The chamber, made of white stone like marble, had no doors or windows to let in natural light. No hidden passages, where curious persons might wander into this place. There were no maps; no spells to show where the chamber was located. No openings where air might be allowed inside yet there _**was**_ air. There was heat, though the white walls were bitterly cold and would burn skin if touched. The chamber was a secret place outside the realm of existence. A pocket universe created with a single purpose.

It was silent as tomb, save for a single gust of hot air.

A figure moved into the room, appearing as if from behind a curtain. The fabric of the universe hummed at her passing, though none but she could sense that swell of cosmic power close behind her. She was lovely and young, but not a child. Sweat beaded her sunburned face, glittering like dew. Pale eyes darkening to sapphire in the unnatural blue radiance narrowed.

Giovanna looked quickly around, brushing long blonde hair out of her face with a careless sweep of her hand. Satisfied that she was alone, she let her pack slide from her back. It landed at her feet with a muffled _thump!_ Dressed in brown khaki crusted with sand, and boots laced partway up her calves, she should have had no defense against the powerful elemental forces that sizzled and snapped at her intrusion.

She tilted her head, a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth as she allowed the magic to twine around her body. Tightening like ropes, like ribbons, wrapping round-and-round as if she were a mummy. She let it happen, tempting the magic to lock her up.

Then, with only a flex of her mind, the magic broke. A sound like crystals splintering.

It was all so easy and she laughed at the attempt. Giovanna had been pursued by better, by greater power than this. Master wizard couldn't even keep her out of his secret prison, let alone snare her.

Giovanna sobered as her gaze landed on the stone table in the centre of the floor.

A body was placed on the table, hands folded gently over its stomach in a mockery of peaceful slumber. Long hair carefully washed and combed smooth, striking gold against the black marble beneath her. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, that ghastly blue glow tinting colors wrong. Amanda's face seemed sallow. Pale, nearly translucent skin. She was the color of death; of when the heart stops, the body cools and liquids pool at the lowest points leaving the flesh horribly discolored and sunken.

Giovanna watched a moment, searching for the rise of her chest to show she was breathing.

Nothing. A perfect stillness.

* * *

**KLAUS**

Klaus leaned on the rough wooden banister, his body adjusting easily to the swell and heave of the planks beneath his boots.

He stood on what amounted to a hastily built raft, which floated on the surface of the lake without any support to keep the entire three-story structure from collapsing. Black, icy water glugged and spilled up through the planks, soaking the feet of the students crowding around him.

Dumbledore was speaking, his voice echoing hollowly on the gray air: "_Welcome to the second task! Last night, something was stolen from each of our champions – a treasure, of sorts. These four treasures, one for each champion, now lies on the bottom of the Black Lake. In order to win –"_

Klaus wasn't listening. Didn't give a damn about the tournament, the competitors or the humans screaming and waving paper flags. The scents and sounds of living bodies a cacophony filling his head with the rush of hearts and blood. It was deafening and he wanted to shut it out, only didn't dare as he was searching for someone. One single beating heart among the throng. He needed his preternatural senses.

He hadn't caught sight or scent of Amanda since . . . oh, about lunchtime. Yesterday.

Klaus was evasive but he wasn't careless.

He was starting to think he'd really lost her.

The last time he'd seen her was in the front entrance, smiling and flushed with happiness from her day out with her wizard-on-demand. He supposed the boy was a handsome enough specimen; all chiseled cheekbones and golden hair and clean, smooth skin. But he was only a distraction. Certainly no threat to either of them.

He was standing now on the edge of the centre-raft, wearing silk swimwear as he took his place with the other competitors. The girl, a statuesque brunette. The boy with a square jaw and a third . . . younger than the others, folding his glasses to hand them off to a friend. Ribbons of slime peeking through his fingers.

"You're sure about this, Neville?" Harry demanded, though quietly so as not be overheard. His voice carried easily over the shouts and the liquid rush of the lake beneath them. Klaus looked away, not needing to face him to hear every word.

"Absolutely."

"For an hour?"

"Most likely," his friend said, not sounding sure at all.

Klaus scanned the upper levels of the magic-floating platforms, searching for a shock of blonde hair peeking through the foggy gray. Mist rising off the lake, like the spirits of all those who drowned in that icy black water.

"Most likely?" Harry echoed in disbelief.

Klaus sniffed and flipped the lapels of his jacket over his neck.

Neville rushed to explain, "Well, there is some debate among Herbologists as to the effects of freshwater versus saltwater."

"You're telling me this _**now**_? You must be joking!"

Klaus smirked and looked back that way, noting the paleness of Harry's skin. Too pale, perhaps. Tired and worn out, though the poor human couldn't imagine why . . . he slept last night. Amusement threaded through Klaus' other emotions, and he turned his head up. Dumbledore stood on the center platform, just above the competitors. The wind snatched at his robes.

"– _in order to win, each champion need only find their treasure and return to the surface. Simple enough, except for this: they will have but one hour to do so. One hour only. After that, they will be on their own. No magic will save them._"

Eyes narrowing, Klaus was finally paying attention to what the headmaster was saying. A treasure, precious to each competitor. His eyes slid to Cedric, braced on the edge of his platform. Ready to leap into the freezing lake and begin.

Klaus drew a deep, deep breath. Nostrils flaring and Amanda's distinctive scent wafted, peeled off of Cedric's skin by the wind. Strong but stale, Cedric had been with her only yesterday but that fast Klaus decided the boy hadn't seen her since.

He looked in the water, leaning on the banister to stare straight down into the foaming black waves.

Was she down there? Had Dumbledore stolen her away, to use as Cedric's prize?

Frustration simmered, rolling beneath Klaus' skin in a swell of heat. It wasn't the vampire in him that responded to Amanda's loss, and that surprised him. He could feel his wolf stretching, coarse fur brushing the underside of his skin as the beat pushed for release. Restlessness stirring in him. Poignant enough to make Klaus take note of the oddity; other than the familiar fury as his wolf-side raged against the vampire-half, the werewolf part of his nature was relatively sedate.

Loyalty. Love. Belonging. These were things that interested that side of him and Klaus rarely felt any of that, leaving nothing to trigger his wolf. Love and loyalty? He might feel those for his family, but it was conditional. He would – and did – betray them to further his own ends. Belonging? Pack? If he belonged anywhere it was with them, but even there it was flawed-emotion. The bastard brother. The Hybrid creature. The wolf in him demanded that community, a place, and came up wanting. He never truly felt that he was a part of them.

Therefore the wolf rarely came forth, having never found a solid foothold. Only now it woke to restless, bristling attention. Pressing into his consciousness with white fangs glistening. No matter. He couldn't ignore the more dominant part of his nature, and that one was suspicion.

The hard, cold understanding that people were universally selfish. You do what's best for yourself, no matter who you screw over to get it done. Survival. Preservation. Surviving required a certain ruthlessness. He wouldn't have put it past Amanda to have just up and left him. Klaus was dangerous, and she needed him . . . but she'd done well enough without him before and would do just as well again. Was the threat Klaus posed greater than the danger of facing the whole wide universe alone?

Dumbledore lifted his hands, spreading them wide and bellowed into the gray morning, "_You may begin at the sound of the cannon!_"

The champions all moved to the edge of their platform, preparing to begin. Harry stuffed the mass of slimy green vegetation in his mouth. Dumbledore's scent, or herbs and wool and fire, wafted on the air like a beacon lightly spiced with black pepper and sweetness. Klaus drew another breath, playing off that peculiar mixture.

As if aware of his scrutiny, Dumbledore slowly turned to fix Klaus was a passive blue glance. Curiosity sparking at the blatant hostility in Klaus' gold-flecked eyes.

The cannon blew: _**BANG!**_

Four Triwizard champions launched into the Black Lake.

* * *

**GIOVANNA**

Giovanna sent her senses wide, seeking. Her power swelling out to sweep past the hissing defenses trying to wrap her up, searching for signs of life in her mirror-double. An electric crackling that danced and spit off her skin, unable to make-and-keep contact with this creature of subtle power.

Her confidence made her careless, and she slammed into a wall of resistance.

A secondary wall meant to hold should the first fall. More cautiously, she felt all around that invisible barrier. Probing gentle here; harder there. Searching for any give in the solid defense, but she couldn't penetrate that inner circle of magic. Her gaze swept the circular chamber, looking for another way. She was calm, not at all alarmed that her attempt to breach that inside perimeter might have triggered a defense.

If there was a threat, she would handle it. She always did.

The source of the blue glow were eight torches, stood on tall rods, marking the perimeter of the inner circle. Sighing with tiredness, Giovanna vowed to find a nice deserted beach to sleep as soon as this was done. Somewhere tropical and secluded, where she wouldn't be bothered. She was spending too much time spelunking in crypts.

The inner barrier was elaborate.

Not impossible but she was loathed to use her Pyramid to pass through. She had no intention of being here long, and didn't want to exhaust her Object's source too quickly. That took time to recharge and if it came to where she needed to flee, she wanted that option. She was powerful, experienced . . . and honest enough to admit when it came time to run.

Therefore even though her Pyramid could have allowed her to pass straight through the barrier – any barrier – she didn't dare use it again. Instead Giovanna set about the arduous task of systematically unmaking the complicated web of magical enchantments keeping her separate from the body of her Mirror.

It was dangerous, time-consuming work and as she progressed she found traps hidden within. Each of these needed to be carefully defused before she could move on. Away from the arid heat of the world she'd left to come here, her body gradually cooled yet the effort of what she was doing caused fresh sweat to slick her face.

Finally, the last ribbon of magical energy fell away.

At once Giovanna's senses sparkled with new awareness. She could feel Amanda's breaths on her skin. The pulse of her heart, slow but even, like a pain behind her eyes. Amanda was alive . . . and her brain was active. She was dreaming? Legs wobbling, Giovanna managed the few steps to the stone table and collapsed against the hard black marble.

"Oh, girly-girl," Giovanna mumbled. "You done messed up."

Very gently, with only the softest brush of her fingertips Giovanna smoothed a single strand of hair from Amanda's dry, cool forehead. Power thrummed, painfully loud in Giovanna's head as if someone had plucked a guitar string. She drew her hand back, shocked by the sensation, but then touched her double again. Feeling the immense weight of magic keeping the girl locked in this enchanted sleep. Sunk too deeply into it, Amanda was only scarcely alive . . . master wizard had grossly overestimated her strength.

That kind of spell would give _**Giovanna**_ a run, suppressing her power and trapping her mind in whatever illusion conjured by the magic. But for Amanda? Overkill.

Poor girl struggled under the weight of enchantment, fading too far into obliviousness to pull herself back from it and idly, Giovanna wondered if the spellcaster who placed her here had any idea how badly he damaged her. Giovanna blew out a breath and made her decision. She leaned closer, pressing her warmth to Amanda's cheek and whispered softly into her ear: "Alright. Okay. Just this once, I'm going to help you . . ."

* * *

**KLAUS**

Klaus moved like a ghost, unseen with nary a sound to show for his passing.

The majority of the school was down at the lake, to cheer and scream and celebrate this opportunity to escape the classroom. He'd gone there first, guided by the fleeting expectation that if Amanda were anywhere she would make an appearance. Having shown an interest in the tournament before now, and her affection for one of the champions . . . if she were able, he would have thought to find her there.

Satisfied she wasn't coming, Klaus returned to the hospital wing.

Her bed was unmade, the covers tossed but she hadn't slept there. Her scent here, too, was stale. A day, maybe more, since she'd touched these things. Her satchel hung off the hook between her bed and his, as if set aside. The pale, soft leather home to everything they owned.

Klaus snatched the bag off the wall and flung it open. Packets of granola and snack bars tumbled and slid, her jewel charm. Her knife, heavier than the rest sunk to the bottom of the bag. What was new were two packages wrapped in paper. Klaus set the satchel down on Amanda's bed and took them out. The first was unremarkable. A box of candy.

The second surprised him.

A packet of delicate charcoal pencils, in a slim white box.

His first thought was that Amanda had gotten them for herself. She had so few things, a small indulgence wouldn't take very much space. His second, a tentative realization . . . they were for him. The sight caused his fingers to itch with the desire to use those pencils, to sketch. He'd wanted to draw or paint again, to capture his thoughts on canvas. He hadn't imagined Amanda would get him a gift.

So moved by the pencils it took him a moment to even notice something was missing. Amanda's bag had fallen open, the contents spilling over the mattress and Klaus picked it up. Disbelief overriding every other emotion. Klaus dug down, pushing everything aside in a single impatient sweep of his hand.

The Cube was _**gone**_.

He swept the things in the other direction, just to verify he hadn't somehow missed it. There was no mistake, it wasn't there. Klaus let the satchel fall to the floor, his emotions rolling at the implication. Frustration melting into fury and a genuine fear as it occurred to him that Amanda would not have left without their precious Cube.

It was taken, not misplaced and only one name came to his mind as to who would want it.

Master wizard had a death-wish and Klaus vowed to tear his head clean off before leaving this world.

Klaus' eyes landed on the box of pencils in his hands, then lifted to follow the bars of smoky gray light filtering in through the high windows. Again, the poisonous idea that _**Amanda**_ was the one who took the Cube; that she left this world of her own volition danced in his mind. Doubt. A poignant betrayal.

Sense said she wouldn't leave her things behind, even if she would abandon him. Yet the thought was brutal. Pitiless expectation.

How quickly things change. Only yesterday, he was accused of protecting her. Defending her from those who would uncover secrets best left unsaid. Today . . . he recognized how little he actually trusted her. He had no real faith in his mortal companion and he feared how little she might trust him in return. That stung in places best left alone.

What did he care? Few trusted him, and with good reason!

Klaus was not a creature deserving of trust.

Casting a last baleful look at Amanda's bag, he moved away. Leaving it where it was, crumpled in a heap on the floor. There was nothing in that bag he needed. Nothing he wanted. The Cube mattered. Only the Cube and if he found that Amanda took it – if she took it and ran . . . he would kill her and regret nothing.

He slipped the box of pencils in the inside pocket of his jacket.

Klaus was nearly to the doors leading out of the infirmary room when he very suddenly became aware of a presence. The warmth of a body displacing the air around it. The silence of the hospital wing broken by a single, rhythmic thumping. A heartbeat.

There was something to be said for knowing you couldn't be damaged. Klaus felt no fear, wasn't even startled. He turned around, sharp eyes drawn unerringly to the source of the sound. Every inhuman sense trained on the slender figure of a girl who could not have come in without him seeing her. She appeared as if by magic.

She stood where he'd been only a moment ago. Long blonde tresses left loose to tumble over her shoulders, she had her head bowed. Looking, it seemed, at the satchel on the floor. A tremor raced up his spine. Recognition. Whether it was the tilt of her shoulders, or the shape of her body, he recognized her without needing to see her face.

"Amanda?"

Her head came up and she smiled, blue eyes bright in a slightly sunburned face. Her clothes smelled of sand and heat. Her skin; black pepper and cinnamon. It wasn't right. _**She**_ wasn't right.

A snarl tore up his throat and Klaus launched across the infirmary hall in a blur of vampire speed. In the spaces between one heartbeat and the next, he had Giovanna by the throat and lifted straight off her feet.

Small hands closed around his wrist, holding him as he slammed her bodily into the wall only just managing to avoid impaling her on the coat hook between the beds. Air _**oomph-ed**_ from her lungs, a little gasp, but eerily reminiscent of Amanda's response to the same. She didn't make a sound. Her feet kicked out, a moment of futile fight that lasted only as long as it took for her to overcome the instinct.

That fast, she calmed herself. Klaus was almost impressed.

"_**Where is it**_?" he demanded through clenched teeth.

"Where's what? Your Cube or _'manda_?" she was laughing at him. Fingers tightened, the tips digging into Giovanna's soft throat. She swallowed at the pressure; he felt her throat bobbing under the palm of his hand.

_So easy,_ Klaus thought. Human flesh like paper, it would be so easy to tear into it. To sink his fangs into her skin and gorge on the blood beneath. She was nothing to him. Klaus, already dancing off the edge of his control . . . Giovanna had no idea how perilous the situation. He wouldn't have fed on Harry Potter the day before if he hadn't already been starving. His body crying out for blood.

By every right, he should have killed the young wizard. Drank until there was nothing left, sate his thirst on the boy's last fluttering heartbeat. Instead, Klaus released him. Not out of any sense of morality or sympathy for the life in his arms. No. He owed the human nothing; it was Amanda's face, eyes widening with fear of him that pushed through the red haze until he found himself pulling his fangs from Harry's throat.

It wasn't easy. Hunger drove him to plunge his teeth in again. To finish what he started.

Compulsion and a few drops of his own blood erased the evidence of Klaus' feeding. But because he'd stopped sooner than he meant, he hadn't fed as deeply as he needed. Bloodlust burned beneath his skin, a hunger turning rabid with the thought that he _**could**_ kill this one.

His jaw ached with the effort of keeping his fangs retracted.

"Giovanna," Klaus said her name, to show he knew who she was. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your onerous company?"

"For a superpredator, you were awfully easy to find," she taunted, pink lips twisting into a smile. She watched the Hybrid with an icy coolness. No fear; not in her gaze, not in her scent.

He couldn't stop the sharp slide of fangs, the glow of his eyes hot in the cool gray of winter light. Angered by her words. "For a criminal mastermind, you're not half as brilliant as I was led to believe."

"I don't have your Cube," she said, her scent sweetening with amusement. "I know who has it."

"So do I," Klaus retorted, moving closer. He brought his face to hers, pressing himself intimately near. Aware of how his fangs would look, glistening so near her skin. The heat of his body on hers, his scent surrounding her with the illusion that he was all around her. Inescapable. She had nowhere to turn.

Rather than unsettle her as it was meant, Giovanna raked him with a sneer.

She closed the last few inches separating them. Shameless. Her mouth only millimeters from his lips in a parody of seduction; she whispered, "I've killed far greater than you, Niklaus."

A tremor shot up the length of his spine, raising the hairs on the back of his neck.

Giovanna moved her hand, sliding it from his wrist over the sleeve of his coat. Her warmth passing through the leather to heat his skin. Her hand infinitely gentle, her touch almost loving as she moved her fingers to his chest and the lighter fabric of his sweater.

Klaus endured her touch, a smile playing over his expression. Not desire for her, but savagery as he waited to see how far she would take this.

This was a play he understood, and a weapon he'd utilized himself. Useless seduction.

It was also a game he should have known she _**wasn't**_ playing . . .

Giovanna's warmth turned instantly scalding. Molten heat radiating from the palm of her hand pressed to his heart. The organ seized in his chest, pain erupting in a moment of incredible, mind-numbing agony. Pain such as he'd never known sizzled over his nerves, cracking with force and bringing him to his knees.

He didn't feel Giovanna slip from his grasp. The pain ended as quickly as it'd come. It was just gone, from one second to the next. Leaving Klaus trembling on the floor. A physical response to incredible pain, but one that never happened. He knew even as he shook and sweated, that it was all in his mind.

His lips bled from where his fangs cut into them when his jaw slammed closed.

Klaus lifted his head, blue eyes misting as he struggled to focus on the girl who knelt beside him, heedless of the terrible danger she placed herself by coming so close to him. A wounded predator. Giovanna took Amanda's satchel from the floor, her hands gentle as she closed the top and secured the bag over her shoulder.

"Get up, Niklaus. You're fine," she said, though not unkindly.

The pale length of her throat was only inches away; that sunburn adding a delectable flush to her skin. He could do it. Right now, he could do it. Reach out and flay that flesh from her bones. Watch her blood spill crimson over the clean white floor.

"What did you do to me?" he gritted through clenched teeth.

"Nothing," she said. "I convinced your brain you were in pain, does not mean you were."

He snarled and Giovanna laid her hand on his back, between his shoulders. Klaus froze. That fast she'd conditioned him to be weary of her. Fury coursed nearly as molten through his veins, only this was a rage he understood. A thousand years ago he swore he would never be powerless again, would never allow anyone to have dominion over him.

And for a thousand years, no one had. Until this slip of a doppelganger without even the sense to be fearful of him.

"I won't let you hurt me, half-breed," she said, very quietly. "Calm down and we can work together. Believe I need you."

"What makes you think I need _**you**_?"

"I don't think," she said. "I know you do. I also know what became of Amanda, and that I can't get her out myself. You want your friend? I can take you to her."

"Amanda is not my _'friend'_."

He said it harshly. A flair of color lighting his eyes.

Giovanna's expression turned thoughtful, but also amused. "Lover then? Nice. I admit wasn't too impressed with Amanda when I met her. Seemed such a lost little lamb without a clue. But to have snagged you."

She passed an appreciative second-glance over Klaus' face, over his chest to his hands and feet. He stayed still, letting her look while the anger continued to rise in him. Giovanna curled her lip. "Calm down, I was only trying to lighten the mood. So are you coming with me or not?"

"What makes you think I care anything for her?" Klaus challenged, drawing it out on a low hiss. Threat and challenge it was practically a baring of teeth. One predator to another. She did not rise to his challenge, only continued to watch him with a mild interest as if he were a tiger behind bars. Beautiful and dangerous but certainly nothing to be afraid of.

"Your master wizard has the Cube," she said after a moment. "He thinks he can use it; use it to power a defense against the darkness encroaching on this school. He's not wrong, necessarily. I can feel this power pressing against the walls of my mind, pushing to break through and I know that some outside menace is . . . I think it's _**here**_. Master wizard has good reason to be afraid."

Klaus narrowed his eyes, glowering. Debating if he should finish this now, while her attention wavered or wait and hear what else she had to say. It was eerie. Giovanna looked so much like Amanda it shivered his skin. Everything but the eyes, which were harder. Fiercer than those he knew. She moved differently. With far more certainty than Amanda. It was raw confidence. She feared nothing – not even him – and that stayed his hand.

Confidence without arrogance was a rare thing and did not come from experience, but certainty.

Eyes blue as steel flew to his. "He doesn't know how to harness the Cube. So he took Amanda. Chained her body and snared her mind in a dream from which she won't ever break free. He thinks she knows how to use her Cube but she doesn't. Amanda has no power. No control. She can tell him nothing."

"Again," Klaus drawled. "What makes you think I care?"

Giovanna's smile could have sliced a diamond. Without a word, she reached inside his coat and Klaus stiffened. She didn't hesitate, even when he grabbed for her and pulled a slim box of charcoal pencils from the inner pocket of his black leather jacket.

Klaus caught her wrist, fighting to keep from snapping the fragile bones there.

Using only her fingers, Giovanna maneuvered the box around to show what she had. As if both of them didn't already know what they were.

"You care," she said, very quietly.


	37. Chapter 36 - Doubly-Uneasy Alliance

**_*It goes without saying that The Originals and every other film, book or franchise that will be mentioned in this fanfiction belong to their respectful owners. I claim no ownership or association to any of the many "universes" that will be visited in this fanfiction.*_**

**Chapter 36**

**Doubly-Uneasy Alliance**

* * *

"Time will not slow down when something unpleasant lies ahead."

– **Dumbledore**

_Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_

J.K. Rowling (author)

* * *

Amanda wore her school uniform with a casual comfort.

Hers a deep blue blazer over an ivory blouse, and the pleated navy skirt of a private school girl. Her legs were bare, she did not wear tights but wools socks rolled partway up her calves and black flats on her feet. She was lovely and it did not surprise him to find she'd attended a private school.

Her hair was clean and wheat gold. Her face scrubbed. There were no circles under her eyes, no dirt under her fingernails or stoop to her shoulders as if it was all she could to keep her head up. She looked different. Teeth brushed. Hair combed. Sparkling clean.

She wasn't the same.

Klaus sat with her. Dark in his leather. Blue eyes hard and still, predatory focus with a palpable menace and yet Amanda had nothing to fear from him. He meant no harm. She scarcely seemed aware he was even there, so little did she care for his presence and Klaus was taken by an urge to lay his hand over hers. To draw her attention.

He moved –

Power hit him, air rushing past in a dervish of invisible energy that clutched and tore at his body, and Klaus felt himself forcefully expelled. The world warped, darkness closing around him and Klaus resisted; though he'd been warned against doing that. Now he knew why. Pressure built so swiftly that it was like his brain splattered the inside of his skull.

If he'd had a body, a real form, it would have brought him to his knees.

Instead, the pain cleared with bursts of white behind his eyes and Klaus winced awake to a familiar face peering into his; skin washed blue by the magical glow of a hidden prison. He bared his teeth and collapsed against the black marble table. Idly wondering if it were possible to just force himself back into the dream.

"You failed."

"No shit," Klaus retorted.

Giovanna's quick smile was easy and wicked, a sharp rake of her eyes. He could smell the sweat on her skin. Knew she was tired. Yet not a trace of irritation showed in her expression, though it peppered her scent strong enough to make his nose itch. She betrayed none of what she was feeling, displaying a deliberate control over herself.

The power necessary to send Klaus' consciousness into Amanda's mind drained Giovanna as surely as a split jugular, spilling her strength into the ethers. She didn't have the strength to do this again and again and Klaus' failure to reach her was a significant delay.

Klaus shoved at Giovanna, "Get off of me."

"I'm not _**on**_ you –" but she moved back, giving him space to pull up off the floor. He was silent, regaining equilibrium as his spirit settled into its skin. Everything was still attached, at least, and seemed to still be working like it should. He twisted at the waist, wiggling his wrists and neck just to be sure.

"You were wrong," Klaus said, voice falling flat in the eerie blue. "She didn't recognize me."

Giovanna leaned on the table beside him, ignoring the body there. "She talked to you?"

"Not a word," he admitted.

"Then how d'you know she didn't recognize you?" A muscle ticked in her jaw. "She didn't know you were there."

Klaus let out a tired breath and rolled his shoulders. Odd how off he felt in his own body, as if it didn't fit right.

"Niklaus," Giovanna pressed, forcing his attention. "Did she have a clue, or was she ignoring you?"

He said, "I don't think she knew I was there."

She threw up her hands, spread wide as if he were a child unable to follow a very simple directive. "Then you have to go back inside."

"I have a better idea." Klaus pulled himself off the table, where he was leaning and turned his body to hers. He moved easily, precisely and anyone with even a modicum of sense would have recognized the prowl of a predator. He said, "_**You**_ go inside, and I'll stand here until your brains dribble out your ears."

Giovanna was no fool. Their uneasy alliance had begun to shift, and hot power rolled off her in a wave of palpable heat. She was a lioness bearing her teeth at a wolf. One apex to another. Ironically, it was exactly the right thing to do as it spoke to the predator howling within him. Had she quaked, shown even a moment of wavering in her dominance Klaus would have turned on her. Give him an inch and he would tear out that pale, soft throat with a savagery his reputation was built on.

Her eyes softened, recognizing the threat was passed and said, "I can go in but there wouldn't be very much point. The spell is designed to subjugate Amanda's mind. She's like a bird in a net. The more she struggles, the tighter the wires close around her."

Klaus. "Point?"

"My point is that she doesn't trust me. You can't force her out; she needs to be guided through and it _**must**_ be voluntary. She needs to come with you. The magic will enhance her doubt, her suspicion. I would only drive her down deeper. It has to be you."

"You think she'll come to me?" Disbelief colored his tone.

"She trusts you," Giovanna said. "And that works to our benefit."

Would have been nice, had he shared a measure of that same faith. Though the certainty in her voice was real. She believed what she said to him, there was no deception. Frustration roiled in him even as he accepted the inevitability of going it again. It left him feeling almost ill, and like he didn't quite fit in his skin. That would fade but while it lasted it was nearly painful.

Giovanna asked, "What was Amanda was doing, when you saw her?"

_Nothing,_ he thought. Said, "Sitting at a table."

"And?"

"And nothing. She was sitting at a table."

Brows came down, meeting in the centre as Giovanna considered that. She kept her eyes steady on his, and he could see wheels turning. Felt her uneasiness and the question she didn't dare speak out loud.

"You should have seen more of what she was thinking."

"I gathered," he said wryly.

Giovanna swept her hair back with a careless brush of her hand, in a motion identical to Amanda's own nervous fidgeting. Blue eyes danced away and he felt it like a fist to the stomach. Not similar. _**Identical**_.

Klaus had experience with doppelgangers but this was different. Doppelgangers were physically identical, down to the freckles on their bodies, but not the same. Mannerisms, method of speech, inflection, character . . . those were unique. Giovanna and Amanda were not doppelgangers and the evidence of that was right in front of him.

It was hard to wrap his mind around the idea that they were actually the same person.

They were actually the same girl.

Klaus' attention turned to the body on the table, hands folded over her stomach in a parody of peaceful slumber. Pale face ashen, that flat blue shine that lit this chamber leeching all evidence of like from her skin. Amanda was frozen. Her mind locked away in smoke and magic, while her body was left to petrify on a slab of cold stone.

In his mind's eyes he saw her as she was. Vibrant.

Even exhausted and lost, there was such light in her. Her eyes flashing with spirit, a fire that refused to be quenched. She challenged him, taunting him in a way no one else would dare. Yet all without any sense of cruelty, of laughing at him. She lacked the coldness with which he'd grown so accustomed. Klaus surrounded himself with people who were like him – those too broken by the savagery of the world to be anything less than stone. Cold. Unfeeling.

Her youth a gift she couldn't appreciate, because of course it was all she knew. Amanda was at a point where she could see horror and pain, feel it herself and still believe that there was goodness and rightness in the world. She still had it in her to smile and mean it.

Klaus didn't. He envied her that. The vampire in him prickling with a desire to exploit her weakness. Ah, but the wolf . . . the wolf purred. Stretching languidly in what could only be satisfaction. A deep, calm sense of belonging and it was Amanda's nearness that drew his wolf out of him. Drew it away from ceaselessly warring with the vampire. The wolf recognized her need, recognized belonging and that was what it wanted for them. To belong to someone. Someone who needed them. Wanted them.

Guilt gnawed as he thought of the effort he put into pushing her away. Self-imposed isolation, just short of leaving altogether. Long habit dictating his actions. He was alone – had always been alone – so it felt natural to keep himself there. Too afraid to abandon his mortal, he stayed only for the security offered by having somewhere to go.

That's what he believed.

He didn't believe it anymore.

Giovanna placed her Black Pyramid down at the crown of Amanda's head. Not touching even a strand of that golden hair. She arranged it deliberately, it seemed, and a low hum began to thrum on the air. Deep and resonating.

Black on black. Darker than the emptiness that stretched between the stars. Like the Cube, the Pyramid was nothing. As if it occupied a hole in the fabric of space and he could reach inside. But of course he couldn't. The Objects were solid.

"I'll channel power," Giovanna told him, voice hushed as they both absorbed that invisible thrumming vibration. "To buy you more time with her, but I can't hold it forever. Try not to screw around, will you?"

Klaus glowered.

Giovanna's answering smile was tight. She held out her hand and Klaus approached, bringing himself near enough for her to lay her palm on his head. Fingers curling gently in the hair at his temples. She closed her eyes, her skin turned blistering hot a moment before Klaus felt nothing at all.

* * *

**GIOVANNA**

A single bead of blood slid from Giovanna's nose.

Proof of the physical strain she placed on herself. Klaus' face slackened as his mind vacated his body, leaving her essentially alone in the magical chamber that crackled and snapped with invisible power. It swelled in protest whenever she used her gifts, forcing her to divide her attention between suppressing the defensive magic while making sure she carried the half-breed safely across.

It was madness, what he trusted her with.

She wondered if he knew that.

One mistake, a hiccup, and she would lose him in that in-between place. Very little scared Giovanna anymore, not after years of jumping universes, but even thinking of that non-place caused her heart to thud. Her lungs to seize in her chest, forcing burning air up into her throat. She had no name for it, only that there was nothing there. A void, an emptiness where the mind can be lost.

She feared that loss with a passionate terror.

To exist forever, awake and aware, in total sensory deprivation. No light. No sound or touch or taste. An eternity of nothing. Unable to die, screaming into the void for a mercy that did not exist.

Her nose tickled as another bead of blood snaked down, cooling quickly as it caught on her upper lip. It hung there, wet. The smell filled her head with something dark and she closed her eyes; shutting out her fears. Doubt, unwanted, threaded through her body to poison her power.

Giovanna tightened her hold on the magic, unconsciously curling her fingers deeper into Klaus' hair. She wouldn't lose him . . . she wouldn't . . .

* * *

**KLAUS**

Darkness.

Shapeless. Dimensionless, black void that stretched further and further . . . a gaping maw of inescapable terrors. It was an absence; an emptiness that would devour him and Klaus was helpless to resist the gravitational pull. He felt himself teeter on the edge of oblivion, and that a breath would push him over.

He opened his eyes to a white room. He stood facing a black-painted door, glossy smooth under the bright florescence humming over his head. He blinked at the change in setting, because this was not what he'd seen last time he journeyed into Amanda's head. Before he saw only smoke and creeping shadows, Amanda resting at a table with her hands folded neatly on her lap. Patiently waiting. Trapped in a nightmare.

He didn't know what the schoolgirl uniform had been for, other than that she looked comfortable in it. Assuming it was her uniform that would make sense, though he couldn't fathom how those clothes would feel so secure that she'd imagine herself in them . . .

A strange vertigo heaved, pitching his stomach while his head floated weightless. It passed quickly as his vampire nature adjusted and he blinked, looking curiously around.

This time, Amanda wasn't waiting.

Amanda wasn't there.

Klaus cast another quick look all around, just to be sure but there was no mistake. The room was empty. Four walls, a floor and a ceiling. Empty. He would heed Giovanna's warning against spending too much time; but having to search would stretch Giovanna's perilous hold on him. _**She**_ maintained this connection.

Klaus fell back on his inhuman senses, purely on instinct, before recognizing how ridiculous that was. None of this was real. There would be no tell-tale heartbeat drumming in his head. No hiss of air in her lungs. No delicious pepper scent tantalizingly dark, firing his senses with her presence.

The air flat and odorless. Noises muted. Heightened senses, which had been his for a millennia, were gone. He felt deaf and dumb, his perception of the world narrowed to a single point and Klaus experienced a moment of profound panic.

Like waking up to discover he couldn't see.

He indulged that fear, allowing for a single deep tremor and then pushed past it. He wasn't blind or deaf and so long as he was here, he had a purpose. It's not as if Amanda was in another city . . . she would _**have**_ to be here. This was her brain.

Klaus moved to the black-painted door, stark against the white plaster walls. Like onyx. Like the marble table where Amanda's body was placed. Klaus lay his hand on the door, running his fingers over the smooth wood. There was no knob. He pressed on the door, testing it, then slammed his shoulder up against the barrier. There was no give.

A startling sensation for him, to slam bodily into an object and be immediately repelled. Klaus' Hybrid strength doing nothing to a plank of wood that should have disintegrated. Again, he reminded himself that this wasn't a real place.

A hand closed over his arm, pulling on his jacket. Klaus turned his head, expecting Amanda.

Nobody stood behind him.

"Where are you?" he called to the empty room. He turned back toward the door, unsurprised to find that it was gone. "Amanda, love, we have no time for this . . ."


	38. Chapter 37 - A Dream of a Dream

**_*It goes without saying that The Originals and every other film, book or franchise that will be mentioned in this fanfiction belong to their respectful owners. I claim no ownership or association to any of the many "universes" that will be visited in this fanfiction.*_**

* * *

**Chapter 37**

**A Dream of a Dream**

* * *

"Accio Firebolt!"

– **Harry Potter**

_Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_

J.K. Rowling (author)

* * *

The corridor stretched on, further than he could see. The distance creating a smoky haze like fog.

The white room was gone, swallowed by the darkness.

He had no memory of the change, of switching from one dimension to another yet here he was. Walking. Alone. Wandering aimlessly through a passage inside Amanda's mind with that smoky fog wafting ahead. Always ahead, the fog pulling away as he neared it. The corridor itself was made of deep, rich wood. Floors laid in vermillion and ash, a single stretch of heavy carpet leaving inches of exposed hardwood on either side. The floors dark. The walls dark.

Her mind would not conjure an unreal place. She would have had to have been here before for him to see this so clearly. His initial thought was that this was a home. Not hers, Amanda hadn't ever given him reason to think she would grow up in a place like this. Old money. Too generational; just this sense of age that did not reflect in the girl with fire in her eyes.

Faintly, the echo of voices reverberated through the walls. Whispers. The impression of people moving about though of course Klaus remained utterly alone. Always . . . by himself. These were only memory. Uncertain echoes like dreams.

Or . . . not dreams. Nightmares. There was no softness here, only this prevailing sense of menace. As if he were being watched, guided along by sinister force and the longer he walked the surer he became. Nothing was right. Nothing safe.

Klaus paused, frustration burning in him. Had Dumbledore done this? Created this nightmare to torment Amanda or was this . . . hers? Her bad dream, a web designed to snare the mind and keep it. Locked away in perpetual terror.

There should have been doors! Thousand of doors, thousands of rooms for him to search. Methodically wasting his time as he investigated each one. He was prepared for that, but there was none. No rooms. No side-passages to take him off this main corridor, to confuse and disorient the threat he posed. There was only this one hallways stretching forever onward. He couldn't even tell if he'd been walking for as long as it seemed.

A trickle of fear seeped through the rest, sour and numbing.

Would he know it, if Giovanna lost him?

Her power is all that maintained the connection, a single cord of energy that tied his mind to his body. If that broke, if it faltered, he didn't know if she had the skill to reestablish it. The power it took to do what she was doing now – and to maintain it – was staggering. He could be trapped here, wandering this one passage in Amanda's subconscious forever.

Klaus glanced uneasily back the way he'd coming, tiredness drawing on his patience . . .

. . . a chirrup at his feet had him lowering his eyes. A small white bird sat on the floor, pulling its head back into its wings as it craned its neck up to watch, as Klaus nearly crushed it beneath his boots. Klaus didn't jump back, didn't show very much surprise at all despite being genuinely startled.

His heart gave a solid _thump_.

"Little bird," he muttered, voice echoing hollowly back at him. Mocking his words with repetition.

The bird made not a sound, gazing up at him with shiny black eyes. Feathers white as snow.

A chill crept up the back of his neck. "Amanda?"

The bird spread its sharp little wings, feathers fanning out. The eerie fog rolled in, billowing through the corridor in a curtain of pale smoke twining between Klaus' legs. The bird chirruped, whistling through its stubby beak and fluttered back the way they'd come.

Klaus didn't hesitate to follow. _**This**_ felt right.

He was moving on instinct and experience. Not that wandering one's subconscious cage was a thing he'd done often, but the setting didn't matter so much as the point. Amanda had sent a lure, and if he ignored it there was no guarantee she would send another.

The bird was faster than he was and he worried he would lose the animal in the thickening fog. It darkened, filling the hall at his back with smog and even though this was essentially a dream – his senses deadened by the illusion – he could smell a foulness that did not belong. He let his gaze roam ahead of the bird, unsurprised to find a second wall of noxious black.

They both saw it and the bird panicked. Driven into a frenzy, white wings snapped furiously while the animal swung from one side of the hall to the other. Seeking to avoid the smoke but there was nowhere to go. Klaus slowed down, prepared for what would happen when both boiling clouds met in the centre. The bird's black eyes glittered.

In a moment of sheer, mindless terror the bird pumped its glistening wings and _**slammed**_ straight into the mahogany wall.

_**WHACK!**_

The creature exploded on contact. Blood and brittle bones, feathers splattering in a sticky mess. Klaus blinked. Not disgusted, only startled.

Well hell, now what was he supposed to do? His guide was gone . . . to say the least . . .

The duel walls of black smoke met, closing from either side in a suffocating miasma that seeped straight through his skin. Poison and fumes so sharp it made him want to hold his breath to keep it out of his body. The smoke was hot. Oily smooth. He was in darkness. His eyes stinging and he could see nothing.

A weight pressed down on him. Compressing him and he tried to shake it off but couldn't.

He felt smothered. Powerless. Afraid . . .

Klaus moved forward, both hands out in front to feel for the wall.

Step.

Step. Step.

Grasping hands met nothing but open space. A tremor of foreboding raced over his skin and he pushed it aside with ruthless irritation. This was _**her**_ mind. A dream within a dream. Nothing here was real . . . it wasn't real . . . it wasn't –

_**Shh-WHOOMPH!**_

* * *

**GIOVANNA**

She felt their connection, a single whisper of white energy bow beneath the weight of magic and physical exhaustion. Giovanna's power buckled and she screamed at the pain that shot between her eyes.

Her heart thundered at the grasping blackness that threatened to consume them both. Klaus fought her hold on him, struggling like a man who'd fallen into the ocean; he would drown his rescuer, just trying to keep his head above water.

Instinctively Giovanna tightened her hold, clutching at Klaus' consciousness with all her might. Knowing it would tear her apart; mind and body diverging, where one was spun screaming into that void from which there was no escape . . . while the shell of her flesh fell uselessly vacant to the floor. Left to rot on icy stone in a magic room in a parallel universe.

Her courage faltered and she nearly released Klaus. Abandoning him to that hell to save herself . . .

. . . and who would blame her?

Self-preservation was the foundation of life itself. It was at the core of evolution, of reproduction; this driving need to pass yourself forward. To live. Sacrifices were made, to save oneself and it need not be mindless biological instinct. A conscious decision – Giovanna hadn't lied, she meant to keep her promise to the half-breed. To carry him safely.

But she did not owe him her soul.

Release him or they would both perish.

He was too heavy.

Dumbledore's magic too fast. Too potent.

Sweat stung in her eyes, indecision making her hesitate. Giovanna was powerful but the assaults beat at her from every direction. She was tired. Bruised and battered, her mind fracturing under the onslaught and there was no relief. Not even a moment to collect herself. She felt as if she were falling – and it _**hurt**_.

Oh, lord it hurt! The pain thick, hot white in her chest.

She gasped, crying feebly as her heart . . . her heart . . .

The room tilted, blue lights and shining specks dancing across her vision. A faintness filled her head so she floated, almost as if above herself. The Pyramid glistened beneath her hands.

Power thrummed; unspent. Strength there where she had none. Giovanna closed her eyes, reaching for that black fire. This cosmic energy that was so much greater than she. Behind her closed lids, she saw it. Only a flickering impression of a dimensionless tapestry. Wires woven together, each the width of an atom . . . or less . . . occupying no space at all and yet it was real. It existed. That tapestry of invisible light.

She'd seen it only once before – the night she became aware of it – this dimensionless sub-existence. It was something that stretched across every universe. Every pulse of life, of heat, of light. This tapestry was not creation, but existence itself and it was glorious. Complexity beyond imagining. The cells in her body hummed with that invisible power.

Giovanna opened her eyes, unsurprised to find her legs steady. Holding her weight. Her heart beating with a rhythm that pulsed with the beat of a newborn star. Her Pyramid glowed radiant black, power swelling around them and in her mind she imagined that frayed rope trying her to Klaus. She tightened it. Uncompromising strength. She snared Klaus' spirit and _**locked**_ him to her.

She cared very little for the half-breed . . . would not sacrifice herself for him . . . but so long as the promise could be kept, she would keep it.

Sweat beaded her skin; tiny pearls that shone like jewels in the blue glow of magical fire. Blood trickling steadily from her nose, her ears and the corners of her eyes. Giovanna spared a single glance for the girl on the marble table. Her exact replica. Her repeating-pattern.

Her repeating-pattern.

Amanda lay as if dead, unaware of the battle being fought on her behalf. Giovanna wholly unimpressed by this girl wearing her face. Giovanna was a fighter, a survivor, a manipulator. Amanda couldn't even keep hold of her Cube.

"You got five minutes," she whispered to Klaus, knowing he wouldn't hear her. "Then I'm pulling you out."

* * *

**KLAUS**

Klaus reeled; head tilting wildly as he stumbled. Grasping for a wall, table, chair; anything solid. Dizzy to where he felt his stomach heaving.

The floor dropped out from under him.

Openness. Space that threatened to swallow him whole and there was nothing he could do to stop it. There was nothing for him to grab, to snag and for all his power – he could not fly. It almost felt as if he fell forward, rather than straight down as would happen if the floor really did drop out. As if he pitched forward into a chasm.

A furious updraft cradled his body, tearing at his clothes and hair.

Smell like leaf rot and damp earth. The perfume of a million flowers, of fragrant grass and living wood. Steam caught in his throat with a humidity thick enough to drink.

His feet touched the earth. Knees down, jeans soaking in moisture and dirt. His hands sank into hard soil, fingers curling into the ground. He landed!

Klaus blinked his eyes open, surprised to find soft green light filtering through a canopy of waxy green. Trees all around him. The wind hot and sticky. Still inside Amanda's mind. He had no doubt of that, because nothing else made sense. He could see the jungle around him, smell it and feel it on his skin, yet there was just this haze of surreal. The colors too bright. His senses not quite strong enough . . .

Memory was unreliable. It was _**her**_ dream and she could only build the illusion on what she remembered. More noticeable; Amanda's understanding of his Hybrid senses spectacularly underestimated . . .

_**K-chink!**_

Case in point. The cool black muzzle of a rifle inches from his face. Klaus looked past that deadly length of steel, to the hard brown eyes beyond. Wearing army fatigues, kneeling to keep her weapon level with him. Dark hair tied in an efficient braid to keep it out of her way yet it framed an oval face that was at once pretty and predatory.

He recognized that face. "_**Isabelle**_?"

If she was surprised that he knew her, she didn't show it. Dark eyes narrowed. She had no heartbeat – or none that he could hear. No scent over the cloying perfume of the encroaching jungle. Klaus watched the woman, gauging her mood in the shift of her body. Securing her weight to the ground. The slight, slight pressure tightening on the trigger of her rifle. Her expression cool and unfriendly.

Suspicion darkened.

He tried again, "Amanda?"

"She doesn't want to see you," the woman said, her tone uncompromising.

"You're not Amanda," Klaus drawled. He lifted himself off the ground, noting that she rose smoothly with him. Never breaking contact, prepared to shoot him. "What are you then? Guardian? Deception? Are you her illusion, or _**his**_?"

Her rifle dipped, that hard black barrel lowering by only a fraction but it was enough. He saw a flicker of confusion. Interest. There was only a beat of silence, where she seemed to make a decision. She questioned, "Him?"

Guardian, then.

He must be close . . . Amanda would be right behind this final obstacle.

Klaus tried to remember what he knew of the Israeli sniper, Isabelle. Very little he realized now, other than that Amanda cared. He couldn't say how strong that real-life bond had been . . . but she chose Isabelle to protect her now. Chose a woman they'd known for less than one day. Whatever happened between them made an impression.

"Take me to her," he said.

Isabelle's rifle inched closer to his face, expression turning to granite.

Klaus' smile was slow, easy and deadly. With a flash of motion, he caught the barrel of her rifle knocking it up and out of her hands. Almost pitched the gun into the trees with how fast he moved, surprised by this unfamiliar speed. Amanda may have seriously underplayed his senses – sight, sound, scent – but she was _**overestimating**_ his speed and strength. He was _**too**_ strong. _**Too**_ fast.

Hell, he needed to spend more time with his girl.

She had _**no idea**_ what he could do!

Isabelle slid a heavy knife from a sheath strapped to her thigh and swung! No hesitation; a sharp, practiced slice. Klaus caught her hand with crushing strength, watching pain flash across her face but not a sound escaped. He restrained himself, fist closing but not shattering those fragile human bones. His other hand came up to grip her face, fingers sliding up under her jaw.

Warning. Threat. Promise.

What stopped him was not mercy; he just didn't know what would happen if he killed Amanda's gatekeeper.

Isabelle's expression eased into one of mild irritation. She tugged experimentally on the arm he held.

Klaus dragged her near and pressed his face into hers. Her eyes were large, dark and fierce. It was so strange to breathe, to suck air into his lungs and scent nothing. There were no smells beyond the most powerful, reeking, potent perfume of rainforest flowers and rotting vegetation.

It was like having to be slapped in the face to even notice: _**WHACK!**_ "_There! You smell me now?_"

Klaus rubbed his cheek, rough, against the woman's softer skin. Speaking straight into her ear, his voice silk and menace, he said, "Take me to her."

"She doesn't want to talk to you," Isabelle purred in return. "You think you're the first _**You**_ to come knocking on our door?"

Klaus pulled away. "You've seen me before."

Isabelle's lips curled in a sneer.

"How often?"

"Often enough." Said with the same silky, lethally dark inflection he'd used. Unafraid though she was powerless now. Of course why should she fear? She didn't exist.

Klaus released the woman and pushed her away. Isabelle stumbled but caught herself.

She surprised him by speaking again, volunteering information he hadn't asked for: "They come when it's dark, wailing from the trees as if to lure me away from my post. They send you, sometimes. I've seen Ethan in the trees; beckoning to me as if I were so stupid I would just up and go to him. I won't be fooled."

Klaus turned slowly, from where he'd been peering at the swaying green canopy. "Ethan?"

"My brother," Isabelle said simply.

Klaus' quick smirk was dark, a slash across his face that made the blue in his eyes glint like steel. Isabelle froze in the instant it took her to make sense of what she'd given him. Her rifle came up miraculously back in her hands though he'd thrown it away only a minute ago. She fired! The sharp bullet erupted in a _**CRACK**_ of smoke and black heat, turning wood into pulp where it drove into the trunk of a tangled green tree.

Klaus was gone.

To her eyes, he simply blinked out. Disappeared.

Of course to Klaus' eyes it all looked very different. He shot behind her, blurring into the trees and the waxy slap of leaves to close one arm securely across her chest. He paid no mind to the gun – the length making it impossible for her to turn it on him from over her shoulder. It all happened so quickly. In the time it took her to realize she was captured, Klaus already had his fangs at her throat . . .

"I'll rip off your head as many times as it takes, love," he whispered, his jaw aching with the desire to bite down. To feel flesh break under his teeth, the spill of blood . . .

She released a single, trembling breath. "Why?"

"My brother," Klaus echoed, mocking her. "Not ours. Not hers. _**My**_ brother. Your mind is the same. The illusion is your face, not your presence."

"You think you can force me to let you pass, Hybrid?" Isabelle's laugh came sharp and hard. She strained against him.

"I think the thing you fear most, love, is having to die." He pressed his lips to her ear. "You've come close before and that oblivion terrifies you."

He remembered the sight of her – Amanda – washed white and coated in sheets of her own blood. Bright and dark at once, baking in morning heat. Discarded on the cobblestone street of a fishmarket; the slim, silver knife clasped in the hand of the Assassin. She'd been dead already when Klaus forced his own blood into her mouth, but dead by seconds. Somehow – _**somehow**_ – her quiet heart had begun to beat again. A slow thrum in her chest, tentative at first . . . then faster. Stronger.

He didn't know if she knew, she'd actually been dead. She said nothing of the trauma of that moment, never complained. Never confided in him. It didn't matter – he was guessing but he knew . . . he knew she was terrified of relieving it and that's what he was counting on. That fear to drag the parts of Amanda he'd come to rescue, screaming to the surface.

Klaus' eyes lifted, though he kept his teeth securely fastened to Isabelle's throat. The trees seemed to dim, their leaves and trunks, all faded like an image out of focus. He could see _**through**_ them and there was nothing behind. A painting on canvas. The illusion wavered as Amanda's attention turned away from maintaining it.

Isabelle was gone.

The body in his arms, her solidity, dissolving into empty space. He let her go and stepped back, cautious now. A breeze stirred the leaves, tossing the canopy over his head. Shafts of pale sunshine peeking through the harsh green of this alien jungle.

Amanda stepped out from the trees. She shoved her hair out of her face in a single impatient sweep of her hand, and offered a small smile. "I've been waiting for you. C'mon. It's not safe out here."

**XxXxXx**

The world changed with her desire, her whims shaping the environment to reflect what she needed. Places to hide. A jungle to confuse. A clean white room where they might stop a moment and talk. It was the same white room where he first saw her ages ago . . . hours? There was no sense of time passing, making it impossible for him to judge how long he'd been searching for her.

Klaus followed slowly after Amanda as she knelt on the floor to pull a small cardboard box from under a table. Amanda still wore the same blue and white schoolgirl uniform he'd seen before. Her school crest sewn onto the left breast pocket _**hadn't**_ been there when he saw her last. She was awake now; her thoughts and the illusion coming across as so much more detailed.

"I knew you'd come," she said to him in the most conversational tone. Klaus wondered if maybe he'd been tricked again, and that she was only another misdirection meant to keep him occupied. Not the real Amanda at all. "I just didn't know when. You can't imagine how many tricks they played on me."

"What made up your mind?" he asked.

Amanda's smile was slow. Weary. "Only the real Klaus would try and murder me to make a point."

He accepted the honesty of her assessment. Unapologetically and with more than a little humor. He didn't say anything but she must have seen the smirk in his expression.

"Threatening to kill me is not a tactic you'll be using again, Klaus."

"And if I do?"

"You won't."

"You sound sure," he remarked.

Amanda didn't respond. At least, not on that. She said, "Look, we need to get out of here. It won't take 'em long to break through the door now that Isabelle's gone."

Well that was sobering. Klaus turned his head toward the exit. A simple wooden door, painted glossy black. Icy air wafted from beneath. No noises but that cold wind was warning enough that something lurked beyond. He asked the obvious question: "What are they?"

"I'm not sure." Her eyes were gray and worried. "Like phantoms or something. I put Isabelle out there to keep an eye out, so I'd know when they were coming."

"Isabelle," Klaus echoed. "She's dead, love."

"Well, duh. But I trust her. Besides, she knows how to use the gun."

"Doesn't bother you, having a dead woman guarding your door?"

The _**look**_ she gave him! Condescending. A little annoyed.

"She's not real Klaus," she said with almost insulting patience. "None of this is real."

Of course he knew that. Was genuinely surprised that _**she**_ did . . .

Mindful of Giovanna's warning against forcing any point, to question the illusion for fear that he would drive Amanda's consciousness further into itself he didn't immediately question that unexpected awareness. A rare moment of indecision – truthfully he didn't know what constituted _**pushing too hard**_. Amanda seemed fine. Normal, even. She was perfectly herself.

The air grew colder, icy fingers tingling over the back of his neck. Amanda was still on her knees on the floor, the hem of her pleated skirt carefully folded under her legs. She reached both hands inside the cardboard box and Klaus made his decision.

To hell with risk. He was going to argue with her . . .

"Why are you here?" he demanded. "You know this isn't real, then why stay?"

"Because I can't get out."

She pulled the Black Cube from the cardboard box and Klaus' eyebrows shot up. Well now. That was wholly unexpected. She had her Cube. Not the real one; the physical Cube was in Dumbledore's possession. But she'd conjured the device . . . she had it . . .

"Are you serious?"

Amanda sat back on her heels, cradling the Cube as she looked up at him. Mistaking his incredulity for confusion. She said, "Look, what's outside is eventually going to figure out how to get in. We need to be gone before that happens. Why am I still here? Because they cornered me."

"We have to go."

She stood in one smooth motion, a furious flush staining her cheeks. "Go _**where**_, Klaus? We go out there, they'll kill us. They get in here? They'll kill us. You complicated things for me but that –" and here her eyes softened "– that's fine. You make things so hard but I won't leave you behind when I escape. I mean I know how . . . I just need to figure it out."

"Amanda that makes no sense."

"Sure it does –" she didn't look at him, already running her hands over the slick black squares of her Cube. Running her fingers carefully along the edges. Probing at it. Gnawing on her lower lip as she worked.

Klaus fell silent as he considered the girl standing before him. Amanda seemed to quickly lose interest. Her hands moved, her attention narrowing on a single thought. Escape. Sensing no real threat, she forgot he was there.

That distraction wholly unnatural. The moment he released her attention, it went away . . .

The evidence was in what she'd said.

She could leave.

She knew how to escape.

His first thought was that Giovanna could do that same. Use her object to save herself, to escape to places where no one – not even a monster – could follow.

His second was to remind himself that none of this was real. That Dumbledore had their Cube and Amanda was locked in a dream conjured by the master wizard for reasons unknown. Or not so unknown . . . this was _**his**_ magic. _**His**_ power holding Amanda's mind in thrall. There was purpose to the illusion, or else why leave her awake and aware at all?

Klaus eyes turned to the flat white ceiling of this little room. Was he _**watching**_ this?

To what end? To see what she would do.

To see her use her Cube. The answer came to him as if from above, with perfect clarity. He wanted to see how she activated the device. He wanted her to show him how it worked. Fury cracked with sudden understanding. Heat beneath his skin, filling his chest with pressure and it was all he could do to keep his voice even.

"Amanda."

She didn't respond, frustration wrinkling between her eyes while her hands continued to work. Trying to make sense of this device she didn't know how to use. Dumbledore was a fool wasting his effort on this game. She couldn't give him what he wanted.

Klaus took her arm and jerked her flush against him. Amanda's scent filled his head with sweetness and spice, burning his nostrils with the potency of her scent after so long with those deadened senses. It reinforced his certainty that this – _**this**_ – was the real girl. No more tricks. No misdirection. He'd found her.

Amanda glowered, unaware of the effect she had on him. Gray eyes deepening to the color of storm clouds. "Let go of me?"

"Or what?" he challenged her with a glint. "You'll scream?"

She hit him.

Not a slap, either. She planted her feet and struck him a blow that would have snapped his head back had he been human. Furious, she didn't notice but _**he**_ did. The room heaved at her anger. A stiff tremor that caused web-fine cracks to appear in the painted plaster. Her emotions running high, sweeping aside the magic's persuasive meddling.

He laughed at her. A low, rolling growl that was more threat than humor. Anger twisted her expression and she brought her other hand up, bracing to do more damage with the Cube. It wouldn't hurt him, not really, but this time he didn't stand and take it. Klaus spun around; clamping one hand up under Amanda's chin while his arm locked over her stomach.

She didn't scream. Like Giovanna, she understood the futility of screaming.

Instead, she lifted her knees up to her chest. Forcing him to take her weight, which was nothing to his Hybrid strength. Rather than rely on that tactic to unbalance him, Amanda twisted at the waist, forcing him to compensate for the awkward position. She hadn't dropped the Cube and used it now. With both his hands occupied, he had nothing to stop her from pitching that Black Box over her shoulder straight into his face.

_**WHACK!**_

Like being hit in the face with a brick made of titanium. His lips split on his teeth and blood pooled in his mouth. Klaus hissed in pain, the sharp press of fangs threatening to burst from his gums in response to that minor hurt. She was fighting him. Using everything she had to pull free of his immovable embrace, prompting Klaus to hold on that much harder.

Again, the room heaved beneath his boots. It seemed as if the floor swelled up, pushed by some greater force to break apart and he imagined the sea. An ocean current pressing into the fragile white tiles that was all that kept this bitter water from drowning them both.

"You think there're monsters out there?" he challenged Amanda, speaking straight into her ear. His rough cheek burning on her skin, from how closely he held her.

Amanda froze. Muscles knotting all through her body as the meaning behind his words penetrated whatever else she might have been thinking.

"Klaus I swear . . . _**don't you dare**_!"

"I dare many things, love," he snarled in her hair. "Face your demons and free yourself, we can't stay here."

She bit him. Sinking flat human teeth into the fleshy part of his hand where his thumb met his palm. Not hard enough to draw blood, and it almost made him smile. Unaccustomed to _**biting**_ Amanda undermined her own attack by hesitating. Where she should have bitten down she instead pulled back effectively making her assault useless. She knew it too. She bit him again, catching the sleeve of his jacket this time while simultaneously dropping her feet.

He saw what she meant to do even as her legs descended and he lifted her clear off her feet before she could kick off the floor.

"Don't fight me, Amanda."

She screamed and kicked, flailing wildly as he walked her toward the black-painted door. "Let go of me! Klaus, I mean it. Let – me – GO!"

No. He wouldn't.

Give her credit. There wasn't much Amanda could do to stop him, but she did not surrender. She scored her fingernails over the back of his hand hard enough to leave four bright red scratches and a trickle of blood where one nail gouged a little deeper than the others. She twisted in his arms, aiming for his eyes with fingers curved into claws. Frightened. Angry.

She saw where they were going.

Gray eyes dark and wide, she saw the glossy black paint of the only door to her white room. The room she used as a finale defense. Her sanctuary with monsters howling without . . . waiting . . . prowling . . . ready to burst in and devour her.

He didn't know what she saw out there. Didn't know why she'd conjured Isabelle to guard this room. Sacrifice the memory of a woman she'd trusted and now was dead. He didn't care.

The room shook and heaved all around them. Responding to Amanda's terror – because it was her mind that kept it solid. That kept this place real. And her fear – her emotion – could unmake it all. If she couldn't focus, she couldn't keep it.

"Let go!" through with fighting, she still struggled furiously but now her voice turned pleading. "Klaus, no. No! You don't know what you're doing! Stop!"

He pulled her ruthlessly closer. They were at the door and he released Amanda's snapping jaw to grasp the shiny onyx knob. She screamed again, tears running messily from the corners of her eyes. The scent of raw, unadulterated terror stinging like gasoline and citrus in his nose. The scent caught in the back of his throat.

"Shhh," he sooth in a moment of rare empathy. "Remember; none of this is real."

Klaus twisted the doorknob, feeling a blast of icy air like an arctic wind slam against the door and it was as if whatever waited on the other side knew it was to be let in. Frost crusted his hand, crackling as it slowly crawled over his knuckles and higher. Amanda went soft in his arms.

"You're killing me."

Tears glistened on her lashes.

Klaus gritted his teeth, allowing his fangs to descend and with a single quick twist he flung the door wide –

**XxXxXx**

**A/N FROM DAY –** Got a couple Guests asking questions in my reviews, so where I'd usually answer things via PM I'll do it here instead. Marked the date alongside since I have no other way to tell both Guests apart. :P They may be a little long but I wanted to give genuine responses to their questions.

**Guest (March 17****th****) –** Thank you for reviewing! And for the critique! ^_* Actually, I'd been noticing the same thing. That some of my chapters have the word-count but too little actual progress being made to move the story forward.

I'm trying to correct it (_and with any luck, this chapter makes up for some of it lol_) It's a little embarrassing, because I know that I'm a better writer than this. See the downside of writing chapter-by-chapter instead of a presenting the finished story all polished and ready is that it doesn't streamline as seamlessly. I saw a post remarking that fanfiction is a little like reading someone's rough first draft. Because essentially . . . that's what you're getting. lol

It feels a lot as if I have two "clocks" in my head. The first measures time: how long has it been since I updated last? I really, truly, want to post chapters regularly. Believe me when I say: _writers don't enjoy forever-waits any more than our readers do_. haha

The second measures word-count: too little and the chapter doesn't feel properly fleshed out. Might as well bullet-point what's going on.

What's been happening is that as more and more time passes between updates, the more I start to feel that I have to present _**something**_. So I'll post my chapter even if it's incomplete. The joke is I wasn't doing it on purpose, and only gradually became aware of the mess I was making. I can promise that I'm working on correcting that. There's too much to go back and rewrite everything, but from here I'm making the effort to do better. :P

* * *

**Guest (March 25) –** Hiya! And thanks for reviewing! I'll be honest; your question was innocent but also a bit of a sore spot. To answer, I am 100% a Klamille shipper. I have a vague crush on Cami with Elijah but that's just a guilty pleasure. Not a real interest.

As for the other "established" ships . . . I have zero interest in Klaroline and anything more than a powerful familial love for Hayley just annoys me. Um. Yeah. To be clear I've never disparaged anyone who favors those. It's just that I, personally, don't feel it and part of the reason is that I understand motivation and that people are imperfect. The decisions we make are ones that are made in the moment.

On a more personal note, I've been in the fandom – _this one and others_ – long enough so that emotionally I've come full circle. :P In the beginning I enjoyed it. It was new and shiny and exciting. That enjoyment eventually turned to irritation, and then contempt (yes, I know. I'm sorry! lol). And now I'm in this in-between place where I've chosen to enjoy it again . . . free of the drama . . .

You remarked that I was pairing Klaus with an OC, which prompted your question of whether or not I shipped him with Cami. The truth is that it doesn't matter; I write AUs exclusively. Not because I think I can do better than the cannon writers or that I dislike what they've chosen to do with their story . . . on the contrary, I have a _**great deal**_ of respect for the writers who wrote the original content. I don't want to undo their work by rewriting it. So I write my own.

I will use the cannon as a foundation from which to build my own story. My own plot.

Again, thanks for the review!

Cheers! :D


	39. Chapter 38 - Release

**_*It goes without saying that The Originals and every other film, book or franchise that will be mentioned in this fanfiction belong to their respectful owners. I claim no ownership or association to any of the many "universes" that will be visited in this fanfiction.*_**

**Chapter 38**

**Release**

* * *

"At that moment, Harry fully understood for the first time why people

said Dumbledore was the only wizard Voldemort had ever feared."

– **Harry Potter**

_Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_

J.K. Rowling (author)

* * *

Amanda was right.

There were monsters.

Klaus was right too. There was nothing beyond. He opened the door to be met by emptiness and a bone-chilling cold. Amanda hadn't conjured a world outside; therefore there _**was no world**_ outside her safe little room. Nothing but the nightmares she'd convinced herself were there.

He felt them first.

Nothing to see but a tremor that shook him. Unwanted emotion drawn from the deepest corners of his subconscious mind. Pure feeling without the security of thought, of reason, to shield him from devastation. There was no disassociation. He felt what they took acutely.

Pain.

Emotional pain and no way to protect himself from the severity. Amanda's angry, terrified shouts faded into the emptiness and black filled his vision. His mind. He felt the horror of a thousand years. Time without pity, without mercy. His existence soaked in blood and death and depravity. A creature of terrible power. Terrible darkness. Evil, unforgivable.

His soul shrank at the horror he saw in himself.

"Come back, Klaus. Come back!"

Small fists beat at his chest, knuckles cracking on his chin and higher. She was hitting him now, not to escape his crushing embrace but to pull him back from the brink of utter desolation. He was sinking. Sinking so quickly, drowned beneath the weight of centuries. All the pain; all the horror – all at once. It was too much and he had no defense. None but one.

The slaps that kept him grounded. That wouldn't let him forget there was more than black death – there was a body. There was a man called Klaus somewhere in all that horror, and he clung desperately to that small bit of sanity. That piece of himself.

"Close the door!"

He blinked.

"Klaus!" – slap – "Close. The. Door!"

His fist clenched convulsively in the small knob, crushing the metal as if it were paper. Amanda slipped from his hold, wiggling out under his arm. Klaus didn't let her go – he was too insensible to stop her.

He saw them now. Through the hazy of pain, he saw them. Phantoms. Reapers . . . reapers like in the stories. Tattered black robes rustling in the wind of dying men's final breaths. They radiated the cold of the grave. Of black earth and the absence of warmth. There were no faces. Skeletal hands and bony fingers. They were sickness and death.

Amanda darted for the door, warm hands scrabbling over Klaus' crushing clutch. He wouldn't let go of the knob, wouldn't move out of the way.

The pain in his heart grew, radiating outward. Veins icing with a cold so profound it burned him from the inside. Her heard voices in that burn. Ghosts of his past, taunting him now in the moment of his destruction.

"_Mercy is for the weak, __**boy**__."_

"_You're not worth the food it takes to raise you."_

"_Go on. Do it, do it!"_

"_You think that hurts? I'll show you the meaning of suffering, boy."_

And then the knife. The icy cold cut of a blade, his father's sword slid through flesh and bone without mercy. Without hesitation. He felt that ice pierce his heart and Klaus fell, his vision wavering in that final moment before death. Sword yanked cruelly out of his body, Rebekah dropped to her knees by his side. Crystal tears glistening in the firelight, hair a golden halo crowning her beautiful, beloved face. His last sight was of his sister, kneeling at his side unaware of their father moving behind her.

It wasn't real. Wasn't real . . .

Oh, but how to deny a horror that was perfectly real? This happened; was happening again.

A vision dredged up from his past ripped through his psyche with unforgiving intensity. He was here, there, everywhere. Reliving this moment; failing to save his sister from her father's wrath and their mother's curse while his life spilled out onto the floor.

Another hard slap cracked across his face, the sting so minor compared to this mortal wound yet it clicked something in his head. His vision cleared – just for a moment – and he saw blonde hair sway. The brush of it falling into his face.

Rebekah?

_Oh, sister. Forgive me . . . forgive . . ._

His vision swam, blurring and then a sway of dizziness that made his head spin. The long, cruel draw of pain straight from his subconscious. Something fed that agony, he could feel it swell but was too lost to resist. He had no strength to fight.

He blinked languidly, in a stupor of delirium.

_Rebekah, sister . . . help me . . ._

No, that wasn't right. He blinked again, struggling to clear the film from his eyes. He let his gaze linger over her shoulder, searching desperately for Mikael. Where was he? Rebekah didn't see, but he did. He'd seen the sword, slicked crimson with Klaus' blood – pulsing red and gold steel from the furious crackle of their hearth fire. A demon sword, poised over his sister's head . . .

Gray eyes peered into his. A face leaning into him.

Gray. Not blue. Gray eyes.

"I told you not to open that door," she said to him, ducking protectively over his body as black, boiling death whirled above. He could smell them. Feel the prickle of their skeletal hands clutch at his skin. "Why won't you ever _**listen**_ to me?"

Klaus clenched his jaw.

Amanda slid off of him and the absence of her warmth, the weight of her body, the only thing keeping memory from consuming him was gone. He watched her, through the haze of pain and confusion, of a long-forgotten fear of dying, too weak to reach out for her with his hands. All he could do was tilt his head and watch as she left him on the floor.

Amanda didn't crawl, no, she crouched low. Knees bent, head down she moved quickly the short distance to the onyx-black door. A Reaper swept past, ragged robes rustling with a sound like feathers. Hands of gray bone and hard, sharp points raked through her hair. The creatures were so silent; the silence of the grave. They whispered. They breathed. Such a low, thin sigh hardly a sound at all. The last gasp of the dead.

Amanda paid no mind to the creatures grasping at her clothes, bony fingers tangling in her hair. She grabbed the door with both hands and _**slammed**_ it closed –

– and everything stopped.

The whispering. The sighing. The flutter and flap of the Reapers' robes. The nightmare visions flashing across Klaus' consciousness receded, like a tide pulling back out to sea. Klaus looked wearily around, surprised at the starkness of the white walls around them and the mass of black death boiling around the ceiling like a cloud of noxious smoke. He stared.

Amanda was livid.

"I told you. I _**told**_ you there were things out there. You had to open the door. What's wrong with you, having to prove me wrong like that? Now how're we supposed to get them out?"

That was the question. Klaus didn't respond, and Amanda interpreted his silence as obstinate. New fury flared, spicing her scent so strongly it cleared the smell of death and decay from his nostrils. "I lost the Cube. It's gone. How are _**we**_ gonna get out now, huh? Brilliant plan, Klaus. Open the door. Yep. Let's open the door, what's the worst that could happen?"

"Your Cube was a trap," Klaus said quietly. He didn't move from his place on the floor.

"As opposed to letting a swath of Dementors inside?" she raged. "What are we supposed to do, now? They almost took you, but it's all good. We're fine. It's all fine. We're going to die but whatever. Who wants to live forever?"

Klaus had no response to this, curious as to the sudden passivity of the Reapers. _Dementors_, he noted absently. She called them by name.

He asked, "What are they doing?"

"Choosing up teams for the big volleyball tournament. How should I know?"

"Amanda?"

"What?"

"Get rid of them."

She bristled, glaring fury across at where Klaus still lay on the floor and he wondered if she had the power to eject _**him **_from her mind. Wondered what would happen to her, if she did. But even as he considered that, the white room shook. Tendrils appearing in the paint as the plaster heaved, crumbling white powder raining down from the ceiling. Dust that seemed to pass straight through the Dementor's ghostly bodies. Their robes catching none of it.

A whisper of noise escaped and then quiet.

"I don't mean for you to fight them, love," Klaus amended, knowing she'd misunderstood his direction. "They were conjured from your consciousness; you have the power to send them away. We need to escape this place."

"Conjured from –?" she blew out a breath. "I repeat: _I lost the Cube_. We're not going anywhere."

The quake eased. The tremors tearing fissures into the walls stopped. He glanced first at the mass of hissing dark and fluttering robes above them, then to where Amanda sat with her back to the door. Partially slid down, so that she didn't sit too tall and draw attention from the creatures circling. Her hair tangled, knotted. Gray eyes turned upward, glaring defiantly at the specters. She was trembling, frightened, but nowhere near ready to surrender. Her anger ebbing.

She bit out her words but it was frustration, not true rage. Amanda's mind churning for answers, seeking an escape, keeping her calm and where he would usually applaud that focus – what he needed most was raw, unfettered emotion. He needed _**rage**_. Rage or . . . or fear . . .

What other emotion was as powerful – as poignant as fury than terror?

As if sensing the direction his thoughts had taken, Amanda looked at him. Question in her eyes. She didn't voice it. She didn't need to. Klaus rolled to his knees, ducking his head in expectation of an attack but the Dementors stayed where they were. The flutter of their black, rotted robes like the beat of birds' wings.

He moved swiftly across to where Amanda was, and knelt by her side. She didn't appear particularly concerned by his nearness, he noted with a pang. She trusted him.

"Tell me," Klaus said, speaking slowly. He brushed a ribbon of wheat gold hair from her face. "What're you afraid of?"

She blinked. "What?"

"Dying," he answered his own question. "To have danced so near the edge once already, you fear that final fall. You dispelled your own guardian for fear of death –"

– Amanda hit him.

Once. Twice. Then she flung herself out of his reach, the suddenness of her attack surprising him which was, of course, what she intended. But there was nowhere to go. The white room small, with but one exit opening to the darkness outside.

Call her whatever you like, Amanda wasn't slow. She saw what he intended and lashed out rather than meekly wait for her fate to be delivered. Klaus propelled himself forward, catching his human companion in a single lunge and lifting her straight off her feet.

"Let go of me!" Amanda shouted, swinging for his head with fingers curled into claws. "You're crazy!"

Klaus snarled, releasing the fire in his eyes. Letting her see it, letting her anticipate for too long while the competing scents of fear and anger filled his head to where he could taste it on his tongue. She hit him again; futility heightening her emotion to a fever pitch and Klaus watched the room shake and quake, rattling the walls and the floors. The room broke apart, crumbling down around them.

The ice and cold, the blackness beyond spilled through the fissures like liquid smoke. Filling Amanda's sanctuary and Klaus felt his resolve waver a moment before reminding himself that none of this was real. They were dreams. Just dreams. And it was time to wake.

Bloodlust swelled, hot beneath his skin.

Klaus plunged his fangs into Amanda's throat –

* * *

**XxXxXx**

* * *

**AMANDA**

I felt the bite.

I felt Klaus' teeth cut into my throat but it wasn't right. I expected that initial rush of heat, of blood, followed by incredible cold as my body went into shock. In my delirium I remembered the taste of hot dust, of cooler salt and wind from the bay. I could hear the bustle and voices of the crowded morning market. My throat sliced from ear to ear, in some far away city in a universe where I did not belong.

Klaus was right.

I was afraid of dying. Having come so close once already; I felt my death on every breath. Whatever complacency I'd had before was taken from me in that moment. I knew how easily – and suddenly – it could happen and that when it did, there wouldn't be a fight. No resistance.

My eyes flew open, and my first breath seared my lungs. Hot, burning air like fire in my throat. I coughed, gasping desperately for more; my body starved for oxygen while every trembling swallow hurt as bad as the last. A clear blue light seemed to shine with the radiance of the sun, coming from all directions at once. I blinked, wincing away from that glow even as my eyes adjusted to the light.

I felt the hammering of my heart up in my head; a drumbeat that let me know I was alive. That for now at least I was still here . . .

I have no memory of moving – too dazed to recognize that my body was in motion – but I must have twisted around because I fell off the elevated platform. A burst of pain in my shoulder, my hip and a hard scrape down the length of my arm as I tried to catch myself. Hot hand closed around my arm. I tried to jerk away, slinging my body around but the grip was firm.

Klaus.

Pale as death with circles under his eyes, collapsed on the floor and I'd fallen straight on top of him. A trickle of blood snaked from his nose. He moved, shoving me off and I yanked on my arm again. This time he released me, and hell if Klaus didn't look as confused as I felt. Golden hybrid eyes danced all around, fixing for stability, and slowly . . . slowly . . . dimmed to their natural blue.

"You bit me!"

That is not what I wanted to say. The words just sort of burst out but no taking them back now. Klaus' response was a very misplaced eye-roll.

"You'll live."

Well I certainly hadn't expected sympathy. My hands flew to my throat. Nothing but smooth, unbroken skin. No blood. Still no pain. My mind spun as I tried to pull disjointed thoughts into place. I remembered Klaus' teeth, the _Dementors_ and a terrible fear. This driving need to escape a trap, aware of time slipping through my fingers. I did remember it . . . all of it . . . yet the memories were surreal. So clear and yet still like thinking back on a dream.

My eyes flew up to the platform I'd fallen from; a black marble table, not quite as high as it'd felt when I took my tumble. The marble was cold and smooth as the sides of my Cube.

Klaus was already pulling himself off the floor, strength returning far faster than it did for me. Sympathy would have been beyond him, but I had expected his attention. Instead Klaus seemed more interested in the bundle of flesh and limbs collapsed in a heap around the side of the table. I hadn't noticed her _**at all**_.

I sat up and Klaus took the person in his arms, turning her over. Wheat gold hair netted over her face, long enough for its weight to curtain her pretty evenly. I couldn't make her out but that color. That body. Familiarity hit like a fist to the stomach. I knew who this was.

Klaus swept her hair out of her face, long strands catching in the blood that leaked from her nose. The corners of her eyes. Clotted in her ears, dark and thick. Giovanna lay boneless, her head falling back too far over Klaus' arms as he supported her. Totally, deeply unconscious. Was she breathing?

"She held on," Klaus remarked, a smile ghosting over his expression. He sounded faintly astonished, even as he hiked her body up to lie in the crook of his arm. Her head falling on his shoulder.

I wanted to ask questions; what was she doing here? Where'd she come from? How did she even find us? Wanted to ask. Instead, I kept quiet. Biting my tongue and forcing the words down. It was so not the right time to start peppering him with questions.

Giovanna looked like she'd been beaten. Blood beading her skin as if it'd seeped through her pores. Thicker where it'd come through her eyes, ears, nose, mouth . . . old, dry and flaking beneath the wetter, fresher layer. Well, one questioned mattered: "What happened to her?"

Klaus spared me a single glance, through heavy-lidded eyes. "This, love, is what happens when your body is stressed to its limit with no way to repair the damage. At the end, there, your double must have felt as if she were being crushed."

"She going to die?"

Klaus didn't answer.

Maybe I was tired, worn out, still too dazed to manifest a real emotion but I wasn't sure if I would have been upset if he said yes. My feelings for Giovanna were mixed. I didn't trust her, that was a given but more than that: I didn't like her. There was no real reason to dislike my copy. I certainly didn't _**hate**_ her I just did not . . . want . . .

Gah. Who knows?

I wanted her away.

"You should thank her," Klaus said and I swear for a second there I thought he'd read my mind. "She might have sacrificed herself in saving you."

I bit my lip, torn. Still not sure what'd happened to me, to him, between them. Aware that Klaus had followed me into a very dark place . . . and drew me out. Somehow. Again I felt the shock of fangs cut into my throat, the terror of helplessness and then waking on a marble table. Mind reeling with horror and freedom. The noise fogging my thoughts cleared and for the first time in forever I felt like me again.

Klaus saved me.

Giovanna saved us.

I didn't understand.

Klaus paid zero attention to my mental somersaulting. He bit down on the sleeve of his jacket with his teeth, yanking the sleeve up to expose a length of skin on his forearm. A single quick flash of fang and he tore open his wrist. Dark blood bubbled from the wound. My spine stiffened even as I knew what he was doing. Klaus clapped his bloody, gory wrist over Giovanna's mouth . . . carefully prying her jaws apart to allow the blood to seep in.

She didn't swallow at first. I held my breath, waiting for her to respond. When she didn't, Klaus slid the thumb of his other hand firmly over the side of her throat. Prompting her to drink. I could hear Giovanna's breathing, air hissing through her blood-clogged nose. So unresponsive I started to worry that she'd choke if she didn't swallow the blood filling her mouth. Could imagine blood dribbling down into her lungs and I shifted my position.

Not sure what to do.

If there was anything I could do.

God I felt like I was in the way . . .

Klaus did it again, running his thumb firm but not hard over the centre of her throat. Irritating her into the swallow reflex, no matter how deeply out cold she was. And it worked. She swallowed once. Klaus removed his wrist, the wound sealing closed like a zipper being drawn. Color returning to her face, Giovanna swallowed again.

She coughed, weakly, only once.

And then her eyes opened, and they were black.


End file.
